


Solitary Pathways

by alpacatracks



Series: Solitary Pathways [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Childhood Trauma, Established Relationship, F/F, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other BEs will make an appearance, Post-Crimson Flower, Romance, spoilers for Crimson Flower
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-10-20 15:48:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20677916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alpacatracks/pseuds/alpacatracks
Summary: "I chose you, remember? And I’d choose you over and over again."As the dust of war settles, Byleth and Edelgard must navigate the precarious path they've chosen.





	1. A Proposal

**Author's Note:**

> *waves* I've finally crawled out of long-time lurkerdom to post my first Fire Emblem fic. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> I absolutely loved the CF route, especially the ending, but felt bothered by the fact that it's four chapters shorter than the rest, and that we didn't get the chance to fight TWSITD (despite Edelgard arguably having the biggest axe to grind against them). So please accept this slice of highly self-indulgent Edeleth as my way of righting this wrong.
> 
> Rated M for future chapters. CW: This chapter contains references to childhood trauma.

Of all the places she could have settled down in, Byleth never thought she’d end up in Enbarr.

A lifetime of travelling from village to village, drawn to wherever the next job took her, had instilled her with a natural distrust of cities. The atmosphere in the capital was just too cloying: buildings so tightly packed they resembled shoots competing for light, narrow streets crammed with merchants jostling for the attention of passers-by, and then the politics - oh, the politics - that dominated the seat of imperial power. The war had ended, and as the Emperor’s planned reforms were being enacted, former nobles filtered in and out of the palace daily, all clamouring for a role in her new government, or at least begging her not to seize their lands. The levels of sycophancy and desperation on display were too much for Byleth to bear.

Yet, standing on a balcony on the seventh floor of the palace, she felt miles away from the world below. The palace towered over the other buildings, so the rest of the city seemed tiny in comparison, the people below like ants. It was a hot day, the air thick with moisture, but high above the streets she could feel the gentle touch of a breeze. It was rare moments like these where she felt at peace. 

Edelgard had been in meetings or in her study for most of the day. Unsurprisingly, governing a recently unified continent whose entire social structure was still in the process of being overhauled was a time-consuming task. Taking down the corrupt church and unifying Fódlan had only been the start; now there was the complicated matter of actually running an empire to deal with. 

“If I have to sit through another meeting listening to minor nobles complain about some centuries-old dispute then I’ll plunge my letter opener into their hearts,” she’d say as she perched at her desk in the evening, the exasperation in her voice clear, even if she caveated if with a ‘just kidding’. Her head was slumped over the piles of papers: important documents to sign, disputes to resolve, briefings to read, no doubt warning of some emerging rebellion in a far-flung corner of the region. Nothing too concerning, of course. Nothing that their armies couldn’t suppress in a day or two. But the constant deluge of information and news, often bad, clearly took its toll on the Emperor.

“It won’t be like this forever, my love,” Byleth had promised, running her fingers through the soft strands of her girlfriend’s hair.

It was those moments when Edelgard would promise her that they’d escape the capital soon, just the two of them, and travel somewhere far away: somewhere with forests or oceans or mountains, far from the suffocating drudgery of city life. When the dust finally settled. When everything returned to normal. But normal felt so distant, so intangible, like a light in the distance that was undeniably there, but fading every second.

“M-m’lady?”

None of the palace staff, the armies of maids and guards and ladies in waiting, seemed to know how to address her. It wasn’t surprising; she had no proper title after all. The ring her father had given her was resting on the Emperor’s finger, yet they weren’t married - yet - and it wasn’t as if she had any other official claims to boast of. 

She turned to face the maid who was standing sheepishly in the doorway, partially hidden behind a huge pile of fresh white bed linen. 

“I’ve been asked to tell you that Her Majesty has requested your presence. In her study, I mean.”

She nodded. “Thank you. And don’t worry about changing the sheets. We only had new ones put on yesterday.”

The maid’s eyes widened. “If you’re sure, m’lady. But this is a fresh set, washed this morning. We picked out the bergamot-scented soaps especially-”

The girl was stumbling over her words, and Byleth couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for her. Not just her, but all the palace staff who went to such lengths to make her life comfortable, as if luxury was something she was accustomed to, rather than a strange novelty.

She thanked the maid again, but insisted that there was really no need, stifling a smile as she walked away down the corridor. It was as if they hadn’t been at war only six months ago, moving from one battle to the next, sleeping in tents and on the hard ground, or in her rickety single bed back at the monastery. Now her home was a world where personal scented linens available at the ring of a bell.

She still hadn’t quite got used to the layout of the palace. There were so many staircases and winding corridors, all of which followed no logical structure. Clearly the palace architect hadn’t been preoccupied with minor concerns like whether the layout was practical or efficient. Once she’d got lost on her way to the library and found herself in a room occupied with someone’s ancient wine collection, the bottles caked with dust, as if they hadn’t been touched for decades. But she knew the route to the study by now, on the third floor of the palace, down the grand corridor, where portraits of dead emperors gazed down at her as she walked. 

Her footsteps sounded sharp on the stone floors, announcing her arrival. But even as she approached, she could still hear the muffled voices behind the door: one male, one female, deep in hurried conversation. 

The door opened before she reached it. Hubert slipped out into the corridor, closing the door abruptly behind him, before turning to face her. His arms were folded tightly across his waist, his brow furrowed and the dark circles under his eyes more prominent than usual.

He seemed startled, an unusual reaction for a man known for having a watertight grip on the runnings of the Empire and movements of everyone in the palace. “Professor. What a pleasant surprise to see you here.”

“Good evening Hubert,” she said cordially. “You really don’t have to keep calling me that. I stopped being your professor over five years ago, you know.” 

He smiled wryly. “I suppose old habits really are hard to shake off. Anyway, I won’t keep you for too long. Her Majesty is waiting.”

Byleth watched him go. Even in the heat, he was dressed from head to toe in his usual jet black, his collar stiff and his dark hair flattened against his forehead. He threw a glance back over his shoulder as he walked, but she pretended not to have seen. _He’s acting strangely_, she thought, but knew better than to pry. 

Edelgard was seated at her desk, which was covered in its usual stacks of paperwork, along with numerous leather-bound books on government from the palace library and a stack of dirty teacups. She had no council of Ministers to outsource the business of government to: a benefit in some ways, as it meant less petty squabbling, but it also involved handling the more mundane tasks herself. Byleth had offered to help - a gesture of goodwill rather than anything serious, as she knew as much about government as Edelgard knew about fishing. 

It was early evening, the sun only just beginning its descent below the clouds. Edelgard usually stayed awake into the hours of darkness, only retreating to their bed once the rest of the city had gone to sleep. 

“It’s early, my love. Surely you’re not giving up on work already?”

Edelgard smiled gently. “I needed a break. And besides, do I ever need an excuse to want to see you?”

“I suppose not.” She slid into the chair facing the desk, with its high back and intricately carved wooden arms. “I saw Hubert on his way out.”

“Oh?” Edelgard didn’t look up from the single scrap of paper in her hand. Byleth attempted to peer at the text, but she had the note tilted towards her chest, almost as if she was trying to hide its contents.

“He seemed concerned.”

“He’s always concerned. About my welfare, especially.”

“Yes, but even compared to his usual concerned self, he seemed particularly on-edge.”

“He’s just tired,” she said, placing the mysterious paper back on the desk. “And possibly a bit stressed from all the tasks I’ve been making him do recently. I suggested that he takes a break from worrying about me, but he won’t, of course. I might have to pass a law requiring him to take a holiday every six months.” 

Byleth leaned back in the chair, taking in the scent of old books and lingering bergamot. The study window was open, warm air filtering through from the outside. But the breeze had picked up, and a particularly sharp gust whipped through the room at speed, sending a few stray papers flying. Edelgard leapt from her chair immediately, trying to tame the flurry of papers, but a few of them had scattered on the floor, including the paper she’d been holding so protectively. She practically dived to the floor in an attempt to retrieve it, but Byleth was faster, and within three seconds she’d gathered up the disturbed papers.

The note Edelgard had been reading was at the top - she could tell as the edge of the paper was more tattered than the rest. The text on the page glared back back at her: the note had clearly been written in haste, the ink smudged and the author’s handwriting little better than a child’s scrawl. But the words ‘assassination’ and ‘plot’, written in stark red ink, still screamed at her from the top of the page.

It wasn’t the first time she’d heard mutterings of similar plots. It was hardly surprising: while many had supported her rise to power, large swathes of the population still hated her, especially in what had once been the Kingdom. Winning everyone’s support was an impossible task, and amongst the reverential things said about her - liberator, unifier - there were also cries of murderer and usurper. Byleth was accustomed to it now. But that didn’t make hearing about the plots against her beloved any easier.

She held up the page, ignoring the sheepish expression on Edelgard’s face. “So is this what you were talking about before I came in?” 

“It’s nothing to worry about. Just some lone wolf from some far-off corner of the old Kingdom. He’s been arrested and will be brought here to face justice in a few days-”

“An assassination plot isn’t ‘nothing to worry about’, El. It doesn’t matter if it’s just some lone wolf. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to worry you. I thought-” She paused, discomfort evident in her face. “I’m sorry, I just I thought I could try and shield you from some of this. Some of the more, well, unsavoury parts of my job.” 

Byleth sighed. “You don’t need to shield me from anything. If you’re in danger in any way, then I want to know-” 

“But it’s not fair. You didn’t ask for this life. All these rebellions and plots and intrigues…” She shook her head. “I always knew that I was going to lead this kind of life. They - other people - had set me on this route since when I was a child. But you didn’t have to get caught up in all this. I dragged you into it.”

“You didn’t drag me into anything. I chose you, remember? And I’d choose you over and over again.” She shook her head firmly. “You don’t have to hide things from me to try and to spare my feelings. If you have your secrets, I want you to be able to share them with me. I love you, remember?”

I love you. The words had felt strange at first, but now they felt so easy, so natural. She sometimes thought about how things might have been: if fate had never brought her to the monastery, or if she’d chosen to turn against her that day in the tomb instead. How she could have ended up following the path that others had set for her as well, rather than cutting her own with Edelgard by her side.

_I chose you. I chose this life._

Edelgard’s expression softened. “I love you too. You know I do. But please, don’t worry about my safety. I’m extremely well protected here. Probably more so than necessary.”

“I don’t just want you to be safe though. I want you to be happy.” 

“And I am happy. I have you. I just wish things were simpler, my teacher.” She smiled at the use of her old term of affection, as if she were reminiscing about those less complicated times. “I knew none of this was going to be easy. But I hoped- I hoped it might not be this difficult.”

Byleth walked over to her chair, placing a hand on her shoulder. Upon feeling El’s muscles relax, as if some great weight had been lifted, she slipped onto her lap, burying her head into the curve where her neck met her shoulder. Her hair was different today; the golden horn-shaped ornaments that usually adorned her head were gone, replaced by a pair of ribbons, similar to the ones she had worn every day back at the monastery. She looked softer, more vulnerable, so different to the vision of fire and steel that she projected to the rest of the world.

El’s voice was softer now too, barely more than a whisper. “When I called you here earlier, I didn’t just want to disturb your afternoon. I wanted you here for a reason.”

Byleth tucked a strand of her silver hair behind her ear. “And there I was thinking you just wanted the pleasure of my company.”

“I do, silly. But there’s something else as well.” She leaned forward and opened one of the drawers in the desk, her hand trembling lightly. Byleth watched closely as she removed something from the drawer: a small, black wooden box.

“I wanted to give you this earlier. There never seemed to be a right time. But eventually I realised that there probably never would be…” she trailed off, her cheeks dusted with pink. “You’ll open it, won’t you?”

She nodded and obliged. The hinge on the box was stiff, but it didn’t take long for her to prise it open. Inside was a gold ring encrusted with a single red gemstone. The metal band surrounding the stone had been carved intricately, flaring outwards around the stone in the shape eagles’ wings.

There had been a few moments since the war had ended where she’d felt truly aware of her new heartbeat. It was a novel feeling: the sense of the pace suddenly increasing, the throbbing in her chest more prominent than before. The sight of the ring did nothing to quell the beat. “El, you didn’t-”

“You gave me your father’s ring.” She held out her left hand, the silver band in its usual place on her ring finger. “It’s only right that I give you something in return. It doesn’t quite have the same sentimental value, but I wanted it to be personal.”

“It is beautiful. Really, El. But you didn’t have to-”

“I know. But I wanted to. And I want-” She hesitated briefly before plunging on. “I want to marry you. I don’t want to wait any longer. I never thought I’d say this to anyone, but I want to be your wife, Byleth Eisner.”

Byleth kissed her neck softly. “You know I want the same thing. But I thought you wanted to give it time, wait for things to settle a bit.”

“I thought the same. But why wait? Besides, I’m the Emperor. What’s the point in having all this power if I can’t marry who I want? When I want?”

“...And when exactly did you have in mind?”

“Before the next moon ends.”

“But that’s-” Byleth paused, trying to fathom the implications of what she’d said. “That’s six weeks away. Even for you, planning a wedding in such a short space of time is quite ambitious.”

“Maybe. But I don’t want a big ceremony. We can throw a celebration afterwards, if we want to. But on the day, I want it to be just and me.” She paused. “Well, maybe a couple of others.”

Byleth looked down at the ring, the rays of evening sunlight illuminating the faces of the stone. She slid the band onto her finger, admiring how it fit almost perfectly.

El was still watching her. “So, will you?”

A teasing smile flitted across her lips. “Will I what?”

“Marry me, my teacher. And not several years down the line. Before the next moon ends. I know it’s soon, but I promise, we’ll make this work.” 

It was the easiest question she’d ever had to answer. “Of course I will.”

Their fingers intertwined, and she leaned in closely until their lips met and their surroundings dissolved and the world around them no longer mattered. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They’d shared a bed from their first night in the palace together. No one had really questioned it: a couple of the senior ladies in waiting had raised an eyebrow upon finding the Emperor in bed with her former teacher one morning, but since then their sleeping arrangements had become routine. The idea of two women sharing a bed, or even marrying, was hardly an unknown concept in Fódlan, but amongst some members of the old nobility, it had been frowned upon.

But the age where the nobility dictated what was and wasn’t acceptable had ended, and they were free to follow whichever path they desired.

The bed was so large that, even with both of them in it, they could find themselves several feet apart. They preferred to huddle in the centre of the bed instead, their bodies touching, the sound of each other’s breathing a source of comfort in the dark. Sometimes Byleth would wake to find Edelgard with her head pressed against her chest, listening for the soft sound of her pulse. As if she was frightened that her nascent heartbeat would cease altogether.

And then the nightmares came. 

They had been down there once, beneath the palace. It had been El’s idea: that by confronting the spectres of her childhood, she’d finally be able to put them to rest. There was a single staircase that burrowed down into the lower floors, a huge expanse beneath the earth that Byleth couldn’t quite believe existed, undisturbed by the hum and noise of the city above. The palace crypt was huge, wall torches illuminating the graves and statues, the ghosts of the imperial dynasty. And on the far wall was a single stone inscribed with ten names and ten sets of dates, marking the start and end of each of the Hresvelg children’s short lives. 

Edelgard had told her about them, describing each of them in such loving detail that is if they were still upstairs, their voices illuminating the bedrooms and parlours of the palace. There had been happier times back then, before they’d been dragged beneath, their short lives plunged into despair. Their father had been good to them, Edelgard insisted; he’d just been powerless to stop the forces that snatched his children away and turned him from a proud ruler into a puppet. But no matter how highly she spoke of him, Byleth couldn’t shake off the feeling of resentment towards the man who was supposed to protect her.

_What good was a parent who couldn’t keep their child safe?_

Beyond the crypt were the cells, dark and damp, where rats scurried across the flagstones, and damp moss grew in the cracks in the stone walls. Edelgard could barely bring herself to step inside at first, but she’d forced herself onwards, her hand gripping Byleth’s tightly, constantly on the lookout for rats. 

Only small slivers of light penetrated the cracks in the ceiling, but even in the gloom, Byleth could see the metal chains attached to the wall, the manacles too small to fit round any adult’s wrist. In other rooms she found wooden benches, makeshift operating tables fitted with shackles. Rusted equipment, scalpels and sharp knives, sat on shelves, unused for years but still bearing the stains of dried blood. The anger bubbled in her chest, and she wondered how much trouble she’d create if she burned the whole place down.

Edelgard had ordered the doors to the crypt to be locked from then on. For a few days afterwards, she made no mention of what they’d seen, and Byleth knew better than to bring it up. But the nightmares resurfaced again soon after, old memories that she could never truly be free from, and she would wake up in a cold sweat, crying out for help that had never come.

Byleth hated feeling so powerless. In her life as a mercenary, she could take down those who threatened her loved ones with a swing of her sword (not that she’d had any, other than her father). But that was no longer possible, not now her life was more complex, and those who tormented Edelgard weren’t bandits or ruffians, but shadows and spectres. All she could do was hold her close to her chest, muttering reassurances in her ear: _“I’m here. I’m here. I’m here.”_ She repeated the words like a mantra, rubbing circles into her back, the texture of old scars rough against her fingertips, hoping that her voice and touch could break through the darkness.


	2. A Visit

They ate breakfast together whenever possible, shunning the grand dining hall in favour of a small parlour that overlooked the palace gardens. Compared to the rest of the palace, with its imposing rooms and harsh edges, the gardens, with their fountains and topiaries and unusual plants, felt like a snapshot from a different world. Sunlight filtered through the tall windows as they tucked into their usual platter of pastries and fresh fruit. Neither of them spoke much while they ate, but it was a peaceful silence, one that never felt uncomfortable.

The sound of a knock on the door interrupted the stillness, and Hubert entered, dressed in a slightly different black ensemble from yesterday. Edelgard beckoned for him to join them at the table. As he lowered himself into a chair, his gaze settled on her left hand, and a knowing smile crept across his face. 

“I suppose congratulations are in order. I do hope that I’ll be receiving an invite.”

Byleth prepared to thank him, but something was off about his reaction: there’d been no trace of surprise, and his gaze had settled on the ring immediately, almost as if-

She looked from Hubert to Edelgard suspiciously. “Wait. Did you know that she was planning this?”

Edelgard looked down at the floor, trying and failing to conceal her blushes. “I might have mentioned it to him once-”

“A couple of times, actually,” interrupted Hubert. “And I was there when she consulted the palace jeweller on the design for your ring. Naturally, Edelgard wanted to ensure she picked the best design, and thought it appropriate to seek my advice-”

“_Stop_, Hubert,” she insisted, her cheeks burning. “Byleth doesn’t need to know this!”

Byleth couldn’t help but laugh, the warmth in her chest growing. The idea of Hubert acting as an advisor on romantic matters was unexpected, but not exactly unwelcome. 

They sipped their tea in peace for a few moments more, but Hubert’s smile had faded, replaced by his usual intense stare. “Anyway, your Majesty. I’m afraid I have some less positive news. If you’ll allow me.”

Edelgard nodded. “Do go ahead.”

“There are reports that soldiers from Arundel lands have been sighted less than thirty miles from here, and are travelling towards the city. It’s believed that your uncle is among them.”

Edelgard appeared to tense up at the mention of her uncle, her fingers gripping the handle of her teacup more tightly than usual. “And what does he want, exactly?”

“There’s been no word from him, your Majesty. We don’t know whether he plans to pay you a visit or not. If he does try and enter the palace, should I tell him to slither back into the cesspit where he belongs?”

She laughed, but it was an uncomfortable laugh, lacking any warmth. “That won’t be necessary. If he decides to visit, then so be it. I will prepare for his arrival. Please could you go and warn the guards?” 

They shared a lingering glance, and Hubert acquiesced, although the reluctance in his expression was clear. It was clear that Edelgard’s mood had shifted as well: there was a tension in her shoulders that hadn’t been there before, and she was gripping the teacup so tightly that her knuckles appeared white through her skin.

“Of course he plans to visit today,” she said with a shake of her head. “Just when we have a reason to celebrate. He couldn’t just stay away and let me have one day where I can relax...”

Byleth reached across the table, placing a soothing hand on hers. “It’s OK, El. We can turn him away, tell him that you’ve left on business or something-”

“No, there’s no point. Besides, it would just arouse suspicion if I wasn’t here.” She sighed and slumped back in her chair. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t let this bother me.”

Edelgard shut her eyes, her own hand tightening its grip around Byleth’s. In the soft morning sunlight, with her hair loose and dressed in pastels, she looked more vulnerable than usual. The dress she wore to breakfast was soft and flowing, and although the long sleeves covered her arms, the fabric was sheer enough that Byleth could see the outlines of her more prominent scars beneath. El would never have dressed like this outside the palace, or even inside if there was a chance that someone other than her, Hubert and her personal ladies in waiting might see her. 

Her antipathy towards her uncle was something Byleth also knew well. During the war, she had worked with him and the rest of the slitherers reluctantly - something Byleth had never been comfortable with, but the two of them had regarded as a necessary evil. Now the war was over, but Edelgard’s position was far from secure, and while scheming ex-nobles and would-be assassins plotted against her, making new enemies was not an option. Especially not those who could destroy a city in an instant as punishment for crossing them. Her thoughts lingered on the ruins of Arianrhod, the silver lady now nothing but dust, a perpetual reminder of what they could do to those who disobeyed.

It took almost an hour for a team of servants to prepare the Emperor for the day ahead. Edelgard had insisted, with a hint of embarrassment, that she was perfectly capable of dressing herself, but Byleth knew that it would take three times as long without help: there was a science to fastening a corset and pinning her hair in place that El hadn’t quite mastered. The servants carried out their task with military precision, and soon she was dressed in her full regalia: crimson robes, black boots, the golden horns back in their usual position on either side of her head. Her outfit was part of her armour: not just in the physical sense, but reminder of her power and status, and the perils of turning the blade against her.

They ran through her agenda for the day, which was packed, as usual: desk time in the morning, where she’d be fed reports on the situation across Fódlan, and asked to authorise all manner of decisions from the trivial to the pressing. A roundtable meeting followed with a gaggle of former nobles (Edelgard groaned upon hearing the names of those who’d be attending), all no doubt vying for her favour. An audience in the throne room was scheduled for late afternoon, where she would hear the grievances of and arbitrate in disputes between disgruntled community leaders. Then there would be more meetings. More desk time. More work than one person could feasibly complete in one day.

“I think you should at least hire some advisers,” Byleth suggested. “Not Ministers, if you’d rather not call them that. But you need someone who can take some of the burden off you.”

Edelgard sighed. “You’re right. And I will, once I’ve identified anyone suitable for the role. I suppose that’s one advantage of the old system. At least my predecessors could just appoint people based on title rather than having to bother searching for anyone qualified.”

Byleth knew that her protestations about having no one sufficiently qualified were only half the story. Edelgard would never delegate the important tasks of government to anyone other than those she trusted deeply, especially following the events of her father’s reign, and there were very few people who reached that bar. The only people other than Byleth and Hubert who had been granted access to the Emperor’s inner circle were her old classmates, the members of the now-legendary Black Eagle Strike Force whose feats of daring were the subject of numerous heroic tales from the war.

Now the war was over, their group had disbanded. Petra had returned to Brigid, where she had taken on the running of government in place of her grandfather, whose health was reportedly poor. Dorothea had gone with her, which had come as a surprise to everyone at first, but there were rumours that the two of them had grown close at the end of the war. Caspar and Linhardt had embarked on their own adventure across the continent, occasionally sending postcards to the palace recording the places they’d visited and the exploits they’d undertaken, written in both Caspar’s rough scrawl and Linhardt’s looping cursive. Bernadetta had returned home: following his extended period of house arrest, her father had finally been stripped of his title and exiled, leaving her as the honorary head of House Varley. Although contact from her was rare, there were rumours that she’d used her family’s money to set up a series of kitchens catering to the poor and needy.

The only one who’d chosen to stay in the capital was Ferdinand, but he’d been appointed as temporary envoy to Almyra while Edelgard scoped out the possibility of trade relations between the two countries. And although they were regularly treated to his verbose handwritten updates on the political situation there, as well as unsolicited observations on Almyran culture (the lack of quality tea varieties was a regular feature of his reports), it wasn’t the same as having him there in person.

It would have been unrealistic, and unfair, to expect them all to have stayed in Enbarr. But Byleth still missed them, and it was clear that Edelgard felt the same .

It was early afternoon and the two of them were sharing a pot of tea in Edelgard’s study - a moment of respite amid the endless grind of governing - when Hubert entered, his expression solemn.

“I’m afraid your uncle has arrived at the palace, your Majesty. I tried making excuses on your behalf, but he’s rather insistent upon seeing you.” 

Edelgard smiled weakly. “It’s fine, Hubert. Let him come. I’m sure we can handle him.”

He seemed unconvinced. “If you insist, your Majesty. And do you want me to bring him here?”

“No. Tell him that I will speak to him in the throne room.”

It was a wise suggestion, Byleth thought: the throne room was the most impressive chamber in the palace, with the imperial throne itself sitting on a dais, elevating the Emperor above the masses below. Here, no one could fail to be struck by the symbols of the Emperor’s power. 

She looked over at Edelgard, who was staring intently down at her teacup. “Did you want me to come with you?”

“Yes, my love. Please. If you’re not busy, that is-”

Byleth laughed. “I can assure you, my diary today is empty. And even if it wasn’t, you know I’d clear it for you.”

She reached out and squeezed her hand. They walked downstairs together, their hands still intertwined, along corridors lined with statues and towering bookcases and El’s floral arrangements. Although the building as a whole was impressive, the decor in the palace corridors was fairly stark, so Edelgard had asked the staff to fill them with overflowing bouquets of crimson flowers. Even in the shadowy corners of the palace, away from rain and sunlight, the flowers still bloomed radiantly; Byleth hadn’t been sure how, until she’d caught Hubert tending to them one day with magic.

The guards at the entrance to the throne room bowed in deference as they approached, and the wooden doors creaked open. On special occasions, the throne room could accommodate hundreds of people, but today, apart from the two of them and the occasional watchful guard, it stood empty. Edelgard approached the throne and lowered herself onto it steadily, her hands gripping the arms. Byleth wasn’t sure whether it was her petite stature or the throne’s unnecessary size that made Edelgard seem so small, but even so, her presence was undeniable.

As soon as Edelgard had sat down, the doors opened again and Hubert entered, followed closely by Lord Arundel. He looked no different from the few occasions Byleth had seen him, with the same snakelike glare and generally unsettling presence. Even as seasons passed, his appearance remained the same

“Uncle,” Edelgard said as he approached, the lack of enthusiasm clear from her tone. “May I ask what brings you here?”

“Do I need a reason to visit my niece? It’s been a long time since we last saw each other.” He let out a mirthless chuckle. “Although I have to say, this is a rather formal setting for a meeting. I was hoping that you might have chosen somewhere a bit more private-”

“I’m sure that anything you need to tell her Majesty can be said in front of me and the professor,” interjected Hubert. Edelgard shot him a mild warning look, a tacit reminder that she could handle the situation herself, but he continued. “While your _affection_ for Her Majesty is hardly in doubt, I highly suspect that you wouldn’t trek all this way unless you were after something.”

“Hubert. Good to see that you’re as assertive as ever. And what a pleasure it is to see you as well, Professor Byleth.” The corners of his mouth creased into a smirk, and Byleth felt a stab of rage in her chest. “I happened to be passing through the area anyway, and given that I have some news to share, it made sense for me to stop by. I don’t see what part of that is difficult to understand.”

Edelgard crossed her arms. “Very well. Let’s hear this news.”

“So quick to the point. You aren’t even going to ask how your uncle is?”

She gave him a wry smile. “With respect, uncle, I have an Empire to govern. I barely have enough time to eat during the day, let alone for family reunions.”

“A shame. Perhaps you shouldn’t be working yourself too hard. Skipping meals and refusing to rest cannot be good for your health.”

“You’ll be pleased to know that my health is fine, Uncle. And I have Byleth and Hubert here to support me should things become unmanageable.” She tapped one of her feet on the ground, making her impatience clear. “I must ask, though, that you tell me why you’re here. There is plenty of work I should be getting on with.”

Byleth watched her closely There was something noticeably bolder, more assertive, about her manner with her uncle than she’d dared to be during the war, no doubt encouraged by her position and surroundings. 

“Very well.” Arundel took a step forward, his voice lowered. “There have been reports of dissident activity in the far western side of the Empire. I’m sure you already have your fair share of minor rebellions to contend with. But this is more troubling.” 

“Go on,” said Hubert irritably.

“On the surface, it appears to be fairly standard civil unrest. We’ve heard of villagers setting fire to public buildings, trading routes being disrupted, grain supplies being destroyed.” Silence greeted him, so he pressed on. “However, there have been reports that the perpetrators’ behaviour has been quite uniform. Ordinary people with no record of dissent suddenly rising up to attack the Empire - it appears quite clear to me that someone, or perhaps a group of people, is orchestrating this.”

Byleth couldn’t help but feel a pang of concern. There had been numerous reports of rebellions across Fódlan, but nothing from within historic Empire territory, and the daily intelligence reports that Edelgard received had contained no reference any such disorder in the west. The mention of rampaging citizens also tugged at memories that she’d tried to bury, scenes of burning buildings and villagers turning the blade on their neighbours. The incident in Remire Village had taken place years ago, but the images still replayed in her mind, like a morbid opera stuck on loop.

She glanced over at Edelgard, hoping to study her reaction, but the Emperor’s expression remained stoic. “And do you have any ideas about who’s behind this?” she asked.

“No,” replied Arundel. “This is what makes these reports so concerning. I have my own theories, of course: that one of your old political enemies is out for revenge, or perhaps someone with a connection to the Church. But whoever is behind this plot is keeping their identity a closely guarded secret.”

“A plot? You appear to be jumping to conclusions,” said Hubert disdainfully. “What makes you think that this isn’t simply bandit or vandal activity? Surely you have no proof that this is being masterminded by anyone. Our contacts in the area certainly haven’t detected any evidence of a conspiracy-”

“Then perhaps your contacts aren’t as thorough as you might have hoped, Hubert,” he interjected. “And in any case, I’m sure you’ll agree that any threats to the Emperor, organised or not, must be dealt with swiftly and effectively.” 

“Naturally,” said Edelgard. “We’ll commission a full situation report from our agents in the region. And if there is any violence and destruction on the scale that you suggest, then we’ll dispatch a force to deal with it-”

“Such a display of military force might not be wise, Edelgard. We don’t know who we are fighting here, or what their motives are. Of course, sending in troops would put down some of the rank and file, but it would let your enemy know that you’re on their trail. That could encourage them to lash out, or drive their activities even further underground.”

“Then there are more covert ways of finding out what it is that our enemy wants. As I said, we have agents operating in the region who we can turn to-”

“Come now. This is a task that requires very delicate handling. It shouldn’t be delegated to some incompetent government agents.” He took another step forward until he was barely two feet from Edelgard. _Too close_, Byleth thought, silently willing him to keep away. “Only my people have the ability to manage this with the sensitivity it deserves. We can investigate the cause and, if necessary, put the perpetrators down. So long as there are threats to your position, we remain at your disposal. You should remember that.”

“That’s a generous offer. But I doubt we need to take it up at such an early stage, especially if it’s unclear what our enemy’s motives are.” Edelgard paused, as if considering her next words carefully. “Although I have to say, Uncle. You talk of villagers acting strangely, as if they’re being controlled by some unseen force. That sounds like the type of thing you and your people would get involved in yourselves.”

A chilling silence spread across the room. “You do me a great disservice by suggesting that,” he said icily. “My priority has always been to see you in power. I had hoped that my actions over the past few years had made that clear. I do hope you won’t make such careless suggestions again.”

Edelgard’s stare was piercing, but when she spoke, her tone was softer and more restrained. “I wasn’t accusing you, Uncle. I do recognise that your efforts played a role in our victory. But I can assure you, we will be fine without your help. For now, at least.” 

“Well, consider yourself warned. How you choose to respond to these reports is a matter for you. But I will leave you in peace for now. You clearly have much more important matters to deal with.” He turned away, as if heading for the exit, when Edelgard’s voice caught him off guard.

“Uncle?”

He paused before turning to face her again. “What is it?”

“Before you go, I have my own news to share.” She rose from the throne, placing a hand on Byleth’s arm as she did. “The Prof- Byleth and I are getting married.”

His gaze flitted between the two of them, then downwards to the ring on Byleth’s finger, and his expression hardened again. “What wonderful news,” he said, his icy tone belying his warm words. “I knew the pair of you were close, but clearly there’s more to your relationship than I suspected. I suppose there’ll be some kind of celebration?”

“In time, yes. But our ceremony will be private. Somewhere far from the capital.”

“An understandable decision, perhaps,” he mused. “Although I would’ve thought that you’d choose a political marriage over one of love. For someone in your position, that might have been the _wiser_ choice-”

“Perhaps. But a marriage to some highborn man I’ve never met isn’t suddenly going to give my reign the stability in needs. And I didn’t become Emperor so that I could trap myself in a marriage to someone I don’t love.” 

“Very well. I suppose you’re old enough to make your own decisions now, no matter how ill-advised I may find them.” That sickening smirk had returned. “I must be leaving. I do hope you’ll consider my offer of help. Rest assured, so long as you tread carefully, I will always have your best interests at heart.”

He turned and walked back down the stone steps, the sharp click of his boots reverberating throughout the cavernous room. Byleth watched him go, fantasising about plunging a dagger into his retreating back, until he disappeared through the throne room doors. 

Once the doors had creaked shut behind him, Edelgard sank back onto the throne. “So then. Was that a threat?”

“I believe it was a threat, your Majesty,” replied Hubert. “And a thinly veiled one at that.”

“Well, I didn’t seriously think he’d come here to check that I’m getting enough sleep.” Edelgard sighed. “But if he is telling the truth about these disturbances, then perhaps his visit wasn’t entirely without use.”

Hubert raised a questioning eyebrow. “Are you sure, your Majesty? If things are as grave as he suggests, it seems odd that our agents haven’t reported anything. Rioting civilians and attacks on trade routes aren't exactly things that would escape their attention.” 

“I suspect you’re right. But there’s no harm in investigating further.” She tapped her fingers irritably on the arms of the throne. “What do you think, Byleth?”

Byleth tore her gaze from the throne room doors, thoughts of killing Arundel still racing through her mind, “I think we should investigate. But you were right to turn down his help. We should never let ourselves be in a position where we’re forced to rely on them for support. Never again.”

_Them_. The creatures who had snatched Jeralt from her and subjected Edelgard and her siblings to years of imprisonment and torture. Strong emotions were still unfamiliar concepts to her: feelings such as hatred and anger hadn’t surfaced until her father’s death, and even now, she only felt the stirrings of rage when confronted with their presence. 

Edelgard had half an hour until her audience, so they retreated to a small side chamber off the throne room where the Emperor usually prepared for such appearances. An old chaise lounge sat at the far end of the room, which Edelgard sank onto, her shoulders slumped and eyelids heavy. Byleth suspected that she'd spent much of the past night staring at patterns on the ceiling again instead of sleeping. At least the nightmares hadn't resurfaced.

“Thank you for being there. That wasn’t quite as painful as I’d imagined.”

“It was nothing, my love.” Byleth placed a gentle hand on hers, running a finger over the grooves of her knuckles. “Although I have to say, he didn’t seem particularly thrilled about our engagement...”

Edelgard let out a hollow laugh. “His opinion is worthless to me. He’d always wanted me to marry for political reasons. Even when I was a child he was planning to marry me off to some dreadful noble somewhere. Probably some boorish oaf twice my age. Anything to tighten his own grip on power.”

Byleth smiled. “I suppose marrying a washed-up ex-mercenary and failed professor was never part of his big plan for you?”

“You are _not_ a failed professor, my wonderful teacher. Yes, your career at the academy might’ve been cut short, but I take full responsibility for that.”

“It was for the best. I suppose I’ll have to settle for being an Emperor’s wife, whatever that entails. Although I can’t promise much, other than emotional support and an endless supply of freshly caught fish.” 

“Empress Byleth. It has a nice ring to it.” Edelgard paused, as if she was repeating the sound of it in her head. “Of course, you don’t have to take an official title. Even calling myself Emperor feels strange sometimes. I suppose in a few years, once I’ve found someone to take over the Empire, I won’t have to call myself anything any more.”

She leaned over and rested her head against Byleth’s shoulder. “I promise, when all this is over, we’ll get out of here. Permanently, I mean. Once my position is a bit more secure and I’ve found someone worthy who can inherit my position. And once my uncle and the rest of his kind are gone from this world.”

Byleth gripped her hand more tightly. “I want nothing more than that. But you don’t have to do anything reckless. Not for my sake, anyway.” 

Edelgard shook her head. “They deserve to pay for what they’ve done. Not just to me and my family. But to all those others who’ve suffered because of them. Your father. Those poor villagers...” She trailed off, her eyes glassy and expression solemn. “I wanted to create a world where people could be free from oppression. The Church was a part of that. But my uncle and his people...there should be no salvation for them either. I promised I would end them, and I intend to finish the job.”

“And I intend to be with you every step of the way,” said Byleth, twirling a finger around a strand of her silver hair. “If you’ll have me, that is.”

“_Always_, my teacher.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos! More chapters to follow.


	3. An Incident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for your kind comments and kudos!
> 
> Just a heads up that this chapter contains violence and descriptions of injury (but nothing graphic). More updates to follow.

They’d asked if she wanted to witness the execution. The plotter from the former Kingdom had been brought to the capital where he’d pleaded guilty straight away, at least saving the unnecessary rigmarole of a trial. Edelgard had declined; the official reason she gave was that she was far too busy to attend the execution of someone so insignificant. But Byleth knew could sense what Edelgard refused to say out loud: neither of them had any desire to witness more bloodshed. They’d seen enough during the war.

As the date of the wedding crept closer, Byleth distracted herself by visiting a dressmaker in the city, preferring to escape the confines of the palace rather than have someone visit her. Despite the occasional public appearance, Byleth suspected that most citizens wouldn’t recognise her on sight, especially with her hair scooped back and dressed in casualwear. A small band of soldiers trailed her at a safe distance, and a pair of maids insisted on accompanying her to help her choose a gown - something she’d insisted wasn’t quite necessary, although she could at least appreciate the gesture.

The dressmaker’s shop practically overflowed with fabric, in iridescent shades and adorned with intricate prints, so different to the muted palettes she usually wore. Choosing a gown was a task she hadn’t had to consider since the monastery ball years ago, and she wondered if she could get away with something less _fancy_ instead. After some persuasion by the maids, she’d settled on something appropriately formal: a set of white satin robes with an accompanying cape that fell to the floor, adorned with ornate teal patterns that resembled crashing waves. “It matches your hair,” the dressmaker had said approvingly.

In the two weeks since her uncle’s visit, the various burdens on the Emperor has lightened. There was the usual business - meetings with foreign dignitaries, legal documents to sign, more reports from Ferdinand to peruse - but the number of incoming crises had lessened. Scouts in the western Empire had found nothing to corroborate Arundel’s reports of disorder and Byleth began to suspect that the whole thing had been a lie, designed to make Edelgard’s position seem more precarious than it was. Hubert was less convinced, but even he seemed less harried than usual, his typical stern demeanour ebbing away.

They spent a lot of their free time in the palace gardens, under the shadows cast by the elaborate rows of hedges and topiaries. Byleth would relax by the fish pond while Edelgard painted; mostly pictures of Byleth and occasionally Hubert, but now she’d taken to painting landscapes too - lush verdant fields, vast undulating seascapes, rugged mountains capped with snow. It was her paintings that prompted Byleth to ask the question that had been playing at the edges of her mind for some time. 

“So. Are you going to tell me exactly where we’re getting married?”

Edelgard flashed an impish smile in return. “I have a place in mind. Somewhere you won’t have been before. But I hope you’ll like it. If you’ll trust me, that is-”

“Of course I trust you. As long as you’re not planning on holding our wedding in the Valley of Torment, in which case I might have to reconsider accepting your proposal.”

“You lack imagination. What could possibly be wrong with getting married above a field of molten lava? At least it would keep any gatecrashers away.”

Hubert would join them sometimes, when he was able to drag himself away from his work. He insisted that he hated sunlight and would much prefer spending time in the shadowy corners of the library, but in the shade of the gardens and a book in his lap he too seemed at ease. 

It was one particularly warm afternoon when Edelgard has a request for him. “I want to go into the city. The weather’s nice, and while it’s quieter it feels wrong for me to be stuck here inside the walls.”

Hubert raised a questioning eyebrow. “Is it safe, your Majesty? We did just execute someone who admitted to plotting your assassination-”

“I know. But we can’t assume that everyone outside is secretly plotting to assassinate me.” She gazed wistfully at the garden walls, over the ramparts where the spires and chimney pots of the tallest buildings were just about visible. “Besides, with the greatest of respect to you both, it would be nice to walk amongst normal people sometimes. Reassure them that I’m still alive.”

“That’s why we have your audiences, your Majesty. At least in a controlled environment we can identify anyone of concern and root them out before they have a chance to harm you.”

“But it’s not the _same_, Hubert. I don’t want to live in a ‘controlled environment’ all the time, like some specimen in a museum. The Imperial Guard can accompany me if you think it’s necessary. But I’d like to be able to walk around the city, even if it’s just for one day.”

He appeared unconvinced, but Byleth knew that his reservations stemmed from genuine concern rather than any desire to frustrate Edelgard’s wishes. Under his management of the household, any request from the Emperor would be met, so long as it didn’t harm her interests. And underneath the glow of the sun, beneath canopies of leaves and amongst the overflowing flowerbeds and neatly manicured lawn of the gardens, the events of the past few weeks seemed a lifetime away. Even the war felt like a distant memory sometimes.

Sure enough, the visit was arranged for the following Monday. Edelgard seemed excited in the run up to it - a rare display for the Emperor - and Byleth had listened to her weave stories of the places she’d visited as a child: the grandeur of the Mittelfrank opera house in its heyday, when the legendary songstress Manuela had graced the stage; the tranquility of the city gardens where vendors sold sorbet from beneath the shade of the trees; the frenetic buzz of the merchants’ quarter.

“Will you come with me, my love?” Edelgard had asked. “I’d like to be able to show you around the city. It’s something that I really should have done a long time ago.”

They dressed for the day together, in their bedchamber high above the city with its maze-like streets where merchants wheeled carts stacked with fresh food, and ancient buildings with their shuttered windows and imposing facades. Byleth knew the immediate area well by now, but there were still so many areas left to explore that were hidden out of sight, far from the lofty towers and balconies of the palace.

It was too hot for Edelgard’s usual wardrobe, which involved multiple layers and restrictive fabrics, so she’d chosen a different outfit instead: a flowing scarlet dress woven from thin cotton, but still long enough to cover her wrists and ankles. Her hair was scooped back into a topknot, but rather than her usual horned headpiece, she’d opted for a more subtle gold coronet. There was a small opening at the back of her dress, large enough to expose some skin, but modest enough to hide her scars. Byleth couldn’t help but stare, entranced by the single exposed patch of skin as they descended the grand staircase into the entrance hall.

The soldiers were waiting for them. Wherever the Emperor went, a small band of elite troops known as the Imperial Guard followed. Byleth knew little about the unit, with their concealed faces and not-very-well-concealed array of weapons, only that they were highly trained, potentially murderous and commanded by Hubert, who was also there to greet them, dressed head to toe in his usual dark shades.

“Aren’t you warm?” Byleth asked.

“Roasting. But it would hardly be befitting of my position to leave the palace dressed like a common renegade.”

Byleth looked down at her own outfit gingerly, hoping that her choice of attire hadn’t strayed into ‘common renegade’ territory. “You could at least wear something that isn’t black-”

“This isn’t black. This is charcoal grey. Subtle difference.”

Edelgard rolled her eyes. “You’re both too much. Anyway, if you’ve both finished quibbling about the exact shade of Hubert’s outfit, I suggest we leave.”

They left the palace through the main doors, Edelgard flanked by a cortege of guards. The main palace courtyard was lined with trees, but even in the shade, it was uncomfortably warm, and Byleth could already feel the beads of sweat collecting on her forehead. There were two sets of iron gates separating the grounds from the city outside, as well as a bridge that crossed the palace moat, the water stagnant and covered with bright green algae.

Hubert lingered behind, a safe distance between him and the Emperor’s retinue. “You’re not joining them?” Byleth asked. 

“I always walk a few paces behind her Majesty at all times. This ensures that I’m not _cramping her style_, as I’ve heard it called. But you should walk alongside her at all times.”

“Would I not be ‘cramping her style’ as well?”

“No. You are her fiancee and her equal. I am merely her servant-”

“Nonsense. Maybe you were once, but she and I both see you as more than that. You are our friend, and we value were greatly.”

“I _do_ wish you’d refrain from such overt sentimentality in public,” he said with an exaggerated grimace, but when Byleth glanced back over her shoulder, he’d failed to conceal a smile. 

They started their tour in the merchants’ quarter, where brightly coloured shop fronts lined the streets and children wove through the crowds like mice, their laughter carrying above the hum of chatter. The shopkeepers they visited seemed surprised to find the Emperor at their doors, but they welcomed her inside anyway, all eager to show off their stock. Edelgard beckoned for Byleth to join her inside a toy store overflowing with stuffed animals, including a range of knitted carnivorous plants, which the shopkeeper explained - with some excitement - had been donated to the store by an anonymous benefactor who’d enjoyed visiting them as a child during visits to the capital. Hubert lingered outside, constantly glancing up at the rooftops, where flocks of birds glared down at him.

Eventually Edelgard emerged from the clutches of the toy shop. She took hold of Byleth’s hand; the gesture caught Byleth off guard at first, and she cast her a questioning glance, wanting further reassurance that Edelgard was happy displaying their relationship in public. But Edelgard gave her hand a comforting squeeze, and Byleth felt the stiffness in her hand slip away. If the Emperor was happy holding hands in public, then so was she.

“There’s somewhere I’d like to take you," said Edelgard. "It’s not part of our official itinerary because it’s considered to be one of the _less savoury_ parts of the city. Hubert would have spent all week trying to talk me out of it if I’d told him in advance. But it would be a shame not to take you there.” 

“And you’re sure it’s safe?” 

“Yes, my love. I promise.”

They continued on down the street, still hand in hand, until they found themselves on the edge of an open square. Compared to the manicured gardens and immaculate facades of the palace quarter, the world they’d entered felt so different so unpolished: this was where rows of washing hung from windows, dishevelled dogs basked in the sunlight and women chucked buckets of water out of the windows above, narrowly missing the passers-by below. A man walked past with a cart full of sweets in vivid colours, followed by crowds of enthusiastic and hungry children, their clothes ripped and dirty.

“I used to come here as a child. Sometimes when I was small, before they locked me away, I’d try sneaking out of the palace. I nearly always got caught, of course-” She pouted, and Byleth could almost imagine a five-year-old Edelgard doing the same. “But one time I begged Hubert to help me, and fortunately he knew a secret passage that led from the library into the city. So we came here and bought sweets using some coins he’d stolen from his father.”

Byleth couldn’t help but smile. “And did you get caught?”

“Yes, unfortunately. It was about an hour before anyone realised we were missing. But eventually they sent a group of soldiers out to track us down. Both of us were punished, although Hubert had it worse than me…” Her smile faded, as if her mind had returned to a less pleasant memory. “Of course, they boarded up all the secret passageways after that, so there was no way of us sneaking out. Although I once tried climbing out of a fourth floor window when I was bored.”

“Sounds like you could be a real menace when you wanted to be.”

Edelgard laughed. “I believe the right word is ‘determined’. I do feel sorry for the servants who had to take care of me. I doubt I made their lives particularly easy.”

“Determined, hmm? Sounds like nothing’s changed in nearly twenty years.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Edelgard sighed, gazing across the square to where a pair of boys dressed in ripped clothes were kicking a ball over a puddle. “The people here always seemed happy when I came here as a child. I suppose compared to the palace, and how stuffy everyone was there, it would have seemed that way. I always envied the children and how free they seemed, but I never thought about how I was more fortunate than them in so many ways… 

“I always said that one of my priorities as Emperor would be to make education free. It’s not right that children should be deprived of opportunities because of where they were born. I’ve been so busy recently that I’ve barely had time to give it any thought. But once I have a chance, I want to set up a school here. I don’t know who will run it, but-”

“I’ll do it.” The words spilled from Byleth’s mouth before she’d had a chance to consider them. “Think about it, El. I’ve worked as a professor before. Not exactly an academic one, but if you put me up to the task, I’m sure I could teach children the essentials. Reading, writing, basic maths. My father taught me most of those things himself while we were travelling.” 

“You would, my teacher?” Edelgard's grip tightened around Byleth’s hand. “Although I didn’t think you’d want to. I thought you said you weren’t cut out for teaching.”

Byleth grinned. “I never thought I was. But that doesn’t mean I couldn’t give it a try. I could at least get it off the ground and teach some classes until you find some people more qualified than me. If you’ll let me, that is-”

They were interrupted by the sound of voices: the locals, who’d been preoccupied with their shopping and laundry and other daily tasks, had spotted the Emperor and her entourage. Some seemed cautiously reverent, others enthusiastic and ebullient, rushing forward to greet her and shake her hand. A small crowd had soon congregated around them, and Byleth found herself being pushed away by the throng of clamouring citizens. She stretched onto her tiptoes until she could see Edelgard in the midst of the crowd, her golden coronet radiant in the afternoon sunlight, the members of the Imperial Guard positioned safely nearby.

Hubert was also standing on the edge of the crowd, peering cautiously over the heads and shoulders of the citizens. “I had a feeling they might mob her,” he muttered.

“They all seem harmless to me,” said Byleth. “Just keen to greet her, of course. I’m guessing it’s not often that people around here get to see the Emperor.”

“Almost never,” he said. “Edelgard’s predecessors would never have dreamed of setting foot in a less fortunate area of the city. But she differs from her ancestors in many ways. None of them are fit to lick her boots.”

“You’re right about that,” said Byleth. She glanced up at the slightly dilapidated buildings, at the people peering down from open windows and cats dozing on the rooftops. Edelgard was right: it was unfair that a child’s path could be determined purely by accident of birth. She pictured life back at the academy, where most of the students had been nobles, but others of lower stock had managed to break into its ranks. That included their good friend Dorothea who, had it not been for the saving grace of the opera company, would have been destined to continue her life on the streets. 

Byleth looked back at Edelgard again, her crimson dress still visible amid the crowds, and then back up at the rooftops, where the glare of the afternoon sun illuminated the crouched silhouette of the archer, bow drawn and poised to strike.

The arrow sliced through the air like lightning, and before Byleth could react, it had struck Edelgard in the chest. 

The world around Byleth seemed to freeze momentarily: figures around her became motionless and silent, and her limbs refused to move; only the deafening thud of her heartbeat, harsh and relentless, reminded her that this was real. Her mouth was moving, words struggling to find , but no sound came out.

Then the world thawed, and the reality of what had happened hit her like a punch to the stomach.

Hubert leapt to action quicker than she did: with one swift motion a cloud of dark magic encircled the rooftops, and Byleth saw a body falling, followed by the sickening crunch of flesh hitting stone. The crowd in the square was so large that those on the periphery seemed unaware of what had happened, but the incident hadn’t escaped the notice of those closest to the Emperor. Suddenly the square was alight with the sound of screams, a wave of panic coursing through the crowds. People began to scatter in all directions, bodies thrashing as they desperately tried to escape. And somewhere, beneath the thunder of feet and the clatter of cart wheels, lay the body of the person responsible.

They didn’t matter. None of it mattered.

Only Edelgard mattered.

“El!” The sound escaped Byleth’s throat this time: a strangled, almost inhuman wail, and she fought her way frantically through the tide of people. The Imperial Guard had formed a circle around Edelgard, but they parted at the sight of Byleth. The Emperor’s body was motionless, propped up by one of the guards who was using healing magic, a pale green light emanating from his fingertips. But apart from the juddering rise and fall of her chest, Edelgard was still.

“El. El, please.” Byleth knew that begging was futile, that no amount of desperate pleas would undo the damage, but she clung to El’s limp arm anyway, willing her back to consciousness. She contemplated what she’d give to have Sothis’ power back, how a single use of her divine pulse could unwind the last few minutes, enough for her to take El somewhere safe...

The voice of a guard dragged her back to reality. “My lady. We have to get her back to the palace immediately. There may be more of them-”

“Please,” said Byleth, ignoring the sting of tears in her eyes. “Please, let me go with her, I have to be with her-”

She felt a hand on her arm, and looked up to face Hubert, his own face etched with grief. “We need to get out of here. Now. The guards will protect Her Majesty.” Her refusal to move only seemed to increase his desperation. “Byleth, _please_.”

Her body felt numb, and she could only watch as the mage using their warp magic to whisk Edelgard out of sight. Her limbs felt crushingly heavy, and it took Hubert’s strength to drag her into a standing position and then into a run. They slipped down a narrow alley, the screams of the people in the crowd still pulsing through her ears. She wanted to stop running, to collapse onto the ground until the burning in her chest and roar in her mind subsided. To allow her grief and agony to fill the space around her until she could breathe no more.

Eventually, their run slowed to a walk, and the hammering in Byleth’s chest became less intense. “Where are we going?” she asked, her voice raspy as she allowed air to flood into her lungs again. 

They had stopped halfway down a deserted alleyway, where piles of rubbish mired the cobblestones, rats poking their noses in mounds of rotten food. Byleth wouldn’t have noticed the door had Hubert not pointed it out: it had been painted a nondescript shade of grey, no doubt so it would blend in with the stone walls of the buildings around it.

“There are many secret passageways that lead to the palace,” said Hubert, procuring a single key from the folds of his robes. “This is one of them. And this is the palace master key, which only I am entrusted with.” He turned the key in the lock, allowing the door to creak open, and beckoned for Byleth to enter. 

Reluctantly, Byleth followed him inside. The passage was narrow, dark and putrid-smelling, illuminated by the glow of a single torch, which she reached for instantly. Her ankles were already submerged in an unidentifiable dark liquid, which seeped into her shoes, coating her bare feet and causing her to shudder violently.

“Keep walking,” ordered Hubert.

Byleth had no desire to stay in the passage any longer than necessary. Even with the torch, the passage ahead was still bathed in darkness, their images of their shadows against the walls haunting and deranged. Aside from the sound of their footsteps as they waded through the mire and the occasional drip from a leaking pipe, they walked in silence. In some ways, Byleth welcomed the lack of noise, but it also gave her mind a clarity that she didn’t want. Now the panic had subsided, all she could see was Edelgard, her limp body lying across the cobblestones, the arrow piercing her chest. As the burning tide in her chest grew higher, she allowed herself to stop, releasing the sobs she’d tried to contain.

Hubert had stopped as well, allowing her a minute to compose herself. He didn’t reach out to her, but Byleth was glad that he didn’t - neither of them were exactly renowned for being huggers, and with the exception of Edelgard, Byleth rarely allowed herself to be physically close to anyone. Although, she thought, Hubert had the dubious honour of being only the third person who had seen her cry. 

“I’m sorry,” he said eventually.

Byleth wiped her eyes, the tears still burning like acid. “What are you apologising for?”

“My duty is to keep her Majesty safe. And I failed in that duty today. I failed both of you. If I’d just been more _vigilant_-”

Byleth shook her head. “Please, Hubert, there was nothing you could have done. There are thousands of people in this city. You can’t be expected to keep watch on all of them. And besides, this was what El wanted. She wanted to go outside and see everyone…” She stopped as the lump in her throat became unbearable.

“We must get back, Byleth. There’s no point in loitering down here in the dark.”

Byleth nodded, forcing herself to take another step forward. Edelgard would be waiting for her in the palace infirmary, surrounded by healers with their vulneraries and sharp tools, but otherwise alone. 

Eventually the path grew steeper and the waters subsided. A stone staircase led up to a heavy wooden door, which Hubert opened with ease. Light spilled into the passageway, and from the smell of roasting vegetables that was wafting down the corridor, Byleth suspected that they were somewhere near the kitchens. Normally she would have made a more precise note of the passageway's location, but there was no time. Not when Edelgard needed her.

The infirmary was situated on the fourth floor. A young healer stood guard at the entrance, glancing nervously up and down the corridor. He seemed to become even more flustered when he noticed the two of them approaching. 

“Aren’t you going to move aside?” asked Hubert irritably. “Her Majesty’s beloved needs to see her instantly,” he added, motioning towards Byleth unnecessarily.

“I’m sorry, my Lord.” The young man was staring sheepishly down at his feet. “I’m under strict instructions not to let anyone see Her Majesty while she’s in treatment-”

“And I, the Minister of the Imperial Household, am commanding you to let her in," Hubert retorted. "So unless you received your instructions from Her Majesty herself, which is unlikely given her current condition, I suggest you obey, or see your head removed from your shoulders.”

The healer’s face turned a ghostlike white. “Of course. Please go ahead, my Lady.”

Byleth only had time to mumble a quick word of thanks to Hubert before he disappeared back down the corridor. The healer ushered her towards the far end of the ward, past a heavy divider curtain that separated Edelgard from the rows of empty beds. 

She was lying on the grandest bed, the one usually reserved for the Emperor, with its carved wooden frame and delicate canopy, her white hair spread out behind her like a veil, the coronet gone. Whoever was treating her had ripped her gown, exposing her right shoulder and part of her chest. But amidst the familiar tableau of scars was a new mark, black and purple and throbbing - like a bruise, but more sinister, a web of fine lines emanating from the centre. Byleth hadn’t seen a wound like it for years. _A magic arrow, perhaps?_

Still, there would be time to determine the offending weapon and its effects. Instead, Byleth sank into the chair beside the bed and placed her hand on El’s. Her eyes were still closed, but she could tell by the gentle rise and fall of her chest that her breathing was less erratic than before. Her mouth twitched slightly, her lips slightly pursed, and the combination of relief and shock at the sight of her body became too much for Byleth to bear. A single tear crept down her cheek, and the emotion that she’d tried to conceal broke free again, as she began choking out out pained, desperate sobs.

The healers mostly left them in peace, which Byleth was thankful for. The only person who came to examine Edelgard was the head physician, who poked at her chest like she was some sort of test subject. Byleth watched, vexed, forcing herself to stay still and not tear him away from her.

“We don’t know what kind of arrow it was,” he mused. “Poisoned, perhaps. But it’s highly likely that whatever it contained it will have penetrated deep beneath the skin. A few centimetres to her left and it would’ve hit her heart.”

“Will she be alright?” Byleth asked.

“I don’t want to make any promises, my Lady. We don’t know what type of damage the arrow might have caused beneath the surface…” He ran a hand over his bearded chin, seemingly deep in thought. “But she’s alive, and her condition appears to be stable.”

It was hardly a consolation, but his words made the chokehold on Byleth’s chest loosen slightly. They had sustained injuries during the war - she recalled images of axe wounds, burns from fire spells, Linhardt and his battalion of healers casting their white magic over those afflicted. Edelgard had survived then. And she would again.

Byleth allowed herself to lean back in her chair, her heartbeat having returned to its usual pace. But she didn’t take her eyes off Edelgard for one moment, not until the curtain was drawn back again and Hubert entered. His gaze settled on Edelgard’s body, appearing reassured by gentle rhythm of her breathing. The head physician gave him the latest update, before leaving them in peace again.

“The soldiers have retrieved it from the square,” Hubert said.

“It?”

“The body of the scum responsible,” he said, each worked cloaked with hatred. “Unfortunately, he is already dead. It’s not clear whether it was the magic or the fall that did it. Either way, I apologise for not being more careful.”

“Hubert, you really have to stop apologising. If you hadn’t stopped him, he would’ve just kept firing-”

“But as a result of my actions, we won’t have the opportunity to interrogate or to torture him. Now we don’t know who he is or what his motives were.” He sighed bitterly. “There will still be an investigation, of course. Anything we can find out about him will be valuable, especially if they are more of him out there.”

“And what if there _are_ more of him? In the city, right now?” 

“The capital is in a state of lockdown and a strict curfew has been imposed. Our soldiers are patrolling the streets and searching buildings as we speak. If there are more of them, then they have very few places to hide. I doubt there are many in this city who’d want to give shelter to someone who would harm their Emperor.”

Byleth glanced out of the window, past the green lawns and high walls of the gardens, where the streets were deserted, aside from the occasional presence of an imperial soldier. In the distance, she could hear the faint sound of bells, but aside from that, the city lay dormant.

“You don’t think they did it, did you?” she asked.

Hubert raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

“Them.” She could barely bring herself to speak their names. “The slitherers. Perhaps as a warning. Given that Arundel's threats don't seem to have worked.”

He shook his head. “No. I loathe them as much as you do, but doubt they would try such a reckless move. They need Her Majesty, possibly more than she needs them. Without her, they have no true power in Fódlan. And they’ve invested far too much in her to dispose of her like this.”

Byleth sank back into her chair. Although she found Hubert’s words reassuring, the knowledge that there could still be people in Enbarr who wanted Edelgard dead meant she couldn’t fully relax. Outside, afternoon turned to evening, the setting sun bathing the infirmary in crimson light until the sun disappeared entirely and twilight settled in, the sound of a cricket chorus rising from the gardens below. 

It was only then that Edelgard stirred, clenching and unclenching her fists until her eyes finally opened. Her gaze flickered to Byleth, then Hubert, and then back again.

“My teacher? What’s going on?”

Hubert shot to his feet. “I’ll fetch the physician,” he said. “Good to see that you're awake, your Majesty.”

Byleth stroked her hand gently, tears - this time of joy - threatening to spill over again. “A few hours, my love,” she said, forcing herself to swallow the lump in her throat. “You remember what happened, don’t you?”

Edelgard’s face remained expressionless. “In the square. Lots of people. Something hit me. Then it all went black.” She shifted uncomfortably before propping herself up on one elbow. “I’m so _thirsty_, Byleth.”

Byleth suppressed a laugh, furiously wiping away a tear before Edelgard could see. “I’m glad to hear it, El. I’ll ask them to fetch you some bergamot tea.”

Hubert returned moments later, accompanied by the head physician, who seemed pleasantly surprised to find the Emperor awake. The healing magic from earlier had made Edelgard groggy and disoriented, and she muttered angrily under her breath as the head physician insisted on prodding her wound with his tools. The dark mark hadn’t grown any larger, but it still glared out from its place on her chest, a stark memento from the afternoon’s events.

Another healer arrived with a freshly brewed cup of bergamot, and Byleth helped prop Edelgard into a seated position while she sipped it. Despite her protestations, Edelgard let the physician imbue her with another round of healing magic, and while she remained awake for the next few minutes, letting Byleth trace patterns across the palm of her hand, she had soon fallen into a listless sleep. 

“She needs her rest,” the physician sternly. “And, while I might be overstepping here, you need yours too, my Lady. Today has not exactly been easy for either of you.”

_You are overstepping_, Byleth thought, but she thanked the physician for his assistance anyway and insisted that the two of them would be fine for the night. Hubert reluctantly excused himself soon after, once he’d satisfied himself that Edelgard was still breathing, promising to return first thing in the morning. Byleth suspected that he'd be camping outside the infirmary doors all night in case anyone tried to break in, but she hardly minded. 

Then it was just the two of them again, as it had been every night since the war ended. Despite her injuries, Edelgard looked so peaceful, her breathing soft and her hand still resting in Byleth’s. Byleth wanted to clamber into bed beside her, to absorb her familiar scent and the soft texture of her hair, their limbs intertwining, but she knew better than to disturb Edelgard while she recovered. Instead, she reclined in her chair and gazed out at the scene below, where the orange glow of candlelight had appeared in hundreds of windows across the city and bats began their nightly journey across the summer skies.

She would fall asleep eventually, after the moon rose and the stars began their watch over the city, when her eyelids grew heavy and her mind finally allowed itself to rest. In the morning there would be questions to answer, investigations to embark on, and wedding plans that needed assessing. But for the moment, Byleth was content just watching Edelgard sleep, and pushing aside her fears for just one day more.


	4. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter this time - sadly work and illness have stopped me from writing nearly as much as I'd like.
> 
> Future updates might be a bit more sporadic, but I hope you enjoy reading nonetheless. Kudos and comments are appreciated!

The room was almost empty: only one object, a wooden table, stood in the centre, bathed in the light of a single candle. Upon it lay the body. The man’s skin was mottled and covered in dark bruises, the effects of both the magic and falling from a height. He was of average build with brown hair, eyes that were still open, a piercing green but devoid of life.

He could’ve been anyone.

“And we still don’t know anything?” Byleth asked. “He didn’t have anything on his person that might help identify him?”

“Nothing,” said Hubert solemnly. “Even the bow he used looked like an ordinary iron weapon. Our soldiers are questioning people from the area as we speak, but so far no one claims to have any knowledge of him at all.”

Byleth sighed, running a hand over the back of her neck and trying to ignore the chill in the room. Despite Edelgard’s order to keep the doors locked, they had decided to keep the body in the cells beneath the palace. Although it was still hot outside, the room was freezing, their breath forming wisps of silver each time they exhaled - the effects of an ice spell that one of the mages had cast earlier, supposedly to prevent the body from rotting.

A crisis meeting took place later that morning, the Emperor notably absent. Each person at the table had reeled off updates on their investigations so far, but their efforts had thrown up nothing of note. A palace messenger had been dispatched to inform the citizens that their Emperor was alive and recovering, while crude drawings of the culprit had been nailed to every post in the city. But there was nothing to suggest that further attacks would follow and, slowly, life was starting to return to normal on the streets outside.

Byleth had attended, but the voices of those around the table soon descended into a wall of sound, and her ability to concentrate vanished. All she wanted was to be with Edelgard, who was still consigned to her bed in the infirmary on the floor above.

As soon as the meeting ended, she rushed back upstairs to find Edelgard still asleep, her face half-buried in her pillow. Byleth watched over her for a while, giving her hand an occasional squeeze, until she finally woke. The healers had brought her a pot of tea and a plate of freshly cooked pastries, the sweet smell wafting through the infirmary. But Edelgard showed no interest, and instead occupied herself by picking at the bandages around her wound.

“When can I get out of here?” she asked.

“It won’t be much longer,” replied Byleth. It was wishful thinking: the head physician had suggested it could be some time before she could be released, but she was prepared to say anything that might reassure Edelgard. “Anyway, you need your rest. Especially with how hard you’ve been working yourself recently.”

Edelgard drummed her fingertips on the bedsheets impatiently. “I’m the Emperor. I should be able to discharge myself whenever I want,” she muttered. Outside, raindrops pelted the palace windows, the air in the infirmary sticky and cloying. “We were supposed to be getting married within the moon.”

“We still are,” said Byleth, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Even if we have to hold the ceremony in the palace rather than outside...” She trailed off, noting the look of disappointment on Edelgard’s face. She had spoken so longingly of escaping the capital for a bit and marrying somewhere secret, just the two of them. But the threat of further assassination attempts lingered over them like a thundercloud, threatening to burst, neither of them knowing whether it was worth the risk.

Edelgard’s safety was the most important thing, but even so, Byleth couldn’t ignore the fantasy of just taking her hand and running away, far from the city walls, to somewhere remote and private. Somewhere where it would just be the two of them. 

“Have they found out any more about who did this?” Edelgard asked.

“Nothing yet. But our people are out there trying to find out anything they can. His body is here in the palace, in case you wanted-”

“No,” said Edelgard firmly, and Byleth knew not to press her. 

It was early evening the next day when the head physician, with some reluctance, agreed that the Emperor could be discharged. Byleth offered to carry her back to their bedroom, but Edelgard insisted on walking, clinging to Byleth’s arm for support. She had received another potent dose of healing magic an hour before, leaving her visibly weak and lethargic; even the simple task of climbing the stairs seemed difficult, her free hand gripping the bannister tightly.

A small army of maids greeted them as soon as they reached the bedchamber, equipped with steaming hot tea, bowls of fresh fruit and newly washed nightclothes. Edelgard seemed too exhausted to deny their offers of assistance. She didn’t even protest as a pair of maids undid the buttons on her gown, the garment sliding off her shoulders, further exposing her scars and the site of the wound. Byleth watched, vexed, until she couldn’t stand it any longer.

“It’s fine,” she said. “I’ll take over from here.”

She spoke with just enough force to make it clear that this was an order. The maids looked slightly affronted, but nodded in agreement and left the bedchamber, leaving the two of them alone again.

The dress had fallen to the floor, collected in a heap around Edelgard’s feet. Aside from her underwear (due to the heat she’d forgone her usual corset and underskirts), she was naked, each of her scars visible: the deep surgical incisions on her chest in contrast the intricate web of smaller scars on her back and limbs. Byleth retrieved the nightgown that the maids had left on the bed and helped her into it tenderly, letting the fabric spill to the floor until every inch of her body was covered once again.

“You should rest some more,” she suggested.

“I’ve been resting for the past twenty-four hours,” said Edelgard with a groan. “I want to go back to work. I just can’t stand the thought of the world moving on without me-”

“Please, El,” insisted Byleth. “The best thing you can do right now - for yourself and for everyone else - is to rest. You’ll have tomorrow to catch up work.”

That seemed to convince her, and with Byleth’s help, Edelgard clambered into their bed. The curtains around the four poster bed had been drawn, enveloping them both in their satin cocoon, undisturbed by the sights and noises of the world outside. Edelgard lay on her side, her head resting on a pile of pillows, her expression despondent, and Byleth scanned her brain frantically for anything that might cheer her up. 

“So,” she said, recalling their conversation from two days before. “Tell me about this school you want to set up.”

“You mean the one you’re going to teach at?” said Edelgard, her expression lightening. “I don’t have a concrete plan at the moment. But I suggest we call it the Byleth Eisner Institute of Educational Arts-”

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t,” interjected Byleth. “Besides, despite my many talents, I’m not sure if I’m capable of running a whole school by myself.”

“You’re far too modest, my teacher,” said Edelgard. “And you wouldn’t be by yourself. In fact maybe - just _maybe_ \- I could convince the members of the Strike Force to come back and teach a class there as well. It’d be just like old times. Except I like to think we’re older and wiser than before.”

“Older, definitely. Wiser, I’m not so sure.” 

Byleth lay back, resting her head on the pillow, their faces inches apart. Edelgard was watching her, and despite the tiredness, her eyes were alight with longing, and Byleth was overcome by the sudden urge to kiss her. She leaned over and their lips met, Edelgard’s hand resting on the curve of Byleth’s hip, her other moving deftly to undo the top button of her shirt. The sensation of Edelgard’s fingertips between the folds of her shirt sent tiny bolts of lightning shooting through Byleth’s bloodstream, her heart thumping in her chest. But her mind was still alert, and with some reluctance, she forced herself to pull away.

“We shouldn’t be doing this now. Not while you’re recovering.”

“I know. But I can’t _help_ myself.” Edelgard pouted, clearly irritated by the interruption. “Maybe it’s the effects of the magic. Or maybe, after what happened, I’m just terrified that I won’t get the chance to do this again.”

Byleth smiled. “I understand, my love. I wasn’t ready to let you leave me yesterday. I don’t know if I never will be.”

“I know. I’m not ready either,” said Edelgard wistfully. “But one day, you’ll have to be ready. We both will-”

“Then I don’t want that day to come,” mumbled Byleth. She knew that she should leave Edelgard to recover in peace, but desire overpowered reason, and she kissed her again, more intensely than before, her heartbeat as quick as lightning. Carefully, she slipped a hand underneath the fabric of her nightgown and traced a delicate finger up the inside of Edelgard’s thigh, eliciting a gasp from her. The smell and taste of her felt intoxicating, and Byleth leaned in closer, placing a hand on Edelgard’s chest as she did. But as she did, she felt Edelgard tense beneath her, and she winced in pain, wriggling her arm away.

Byleth looked down, realising that her hand was resting on the site of the wound.“I’m sorry, my love,” she said, drawing her hand away sharply. “I didn’t mean to-”

“I know you didn’t,” said Edelgard, resting her head back on the pillow with a heavy sigh. “But perhaps you’re right. I should focus on resting for now. We’ll have plenty of time for this after the wedding.”

Byleth stroked her hair, disappointment ebbing away. “And you’re certain that you want to do this now? Away from the capital?”

“Yes, my teacher. After yesterday, I don’t want to wait any longer. And besides, I’ve already made all the arrangements. So you can’t back out now.”

“I had no plans to,” said Byleth with a grin. “You’re stuck with me whether you like it or not.”

They lay in silence for a few more minutes, gazing upwards at the patterns on the ceiling. “After we’re married, I want to spend more time with you,” Edelgard said eventually. “I lock myself in my study every day and don’t get a chance to see you nearly as much as I want. There’s still so much that I need to do. But you’re right that I can’t do this alone.” She sighed, rolling onto her side so that they were facing each other again. “I need a team of Ministers to take on some of the work. So I’ve asked Hubert to start looking into suitable candidates.”

Byleth nodded. “Well, I’m happy that you’re letting others help you. But you don’t have to do this for me, you know.”

“It’s for both of us,” said Edelgard, placing Byleth’s hand in hers. “If I want to leave running the Empire to someone else one day, then I have to achieve as much as I can before then. And as much as it pains me to admit it, I can’t do it all by myself. I just don’t know how much time I have.”

Her words lingered heavy in the air, and Byleth felt a twinge of discomfort somewhere deep beneath her skin. She’d spent two decades of her life not knowing Edelgard, until six years ago, when she’d blazed into her life with the intensity of a hurricane. Edelgard was like the sun, undeniably radiant, immeasurably powerful, drawing everything into her orbit. Losing her would be like living in a world filled with darkness. The knowledge that her light could be snuffed out so quickly was something Byleth didn’t want to live with. She wrapped an arm around Edelgard’s waist, her fingertips digging into her side, so forcefully that she was sure she’d leave a mark.

“We should take a bath,” Edelgard suggested. "I'll ask the maids to run one."

The bathroom was located just off the bedchamber, flooded with the scent of lavender bath salts, the marble tub itself standing in the centre, wisps of steam curling off the water’s surface. Each time Edelgard took a bath, the maids offered to help undress and bathe her, but each time she insisted that she was quite capable of doing it herself. _“I’m not a child,”_ she’d mutter, her irritation poorly concealed, once the maids were out of earshot. Byleth was the only person who was allowed in the tub with her, to rub scented oils into her skin and massage hair products into her scalp; the only person who was allowed to see her fully undressed. 

The tub was more like a small pool than a bath, meaning that there was enough space for the two of them to spread out, but they preferred to relax side by side, Edelgard’s head resting on Byleth’s chest. Byleth buried her head into Edelgard’s hair, absorbing the familiar scents of bergamot and lavender, trying to ignore the persistent thud of her heartbeat. The water was shallow and still, the steam fading as it cooled, but in her mind the bath was filled with crashing waves and ferocious whirlpools, and Edelgard was slipping from her grasp, the currents dragging her down, down, down.

_“Help me, my teacher. Please.”_

Edelgard was crying out, gasping for air, her arms thrashing at the water’s surface. Byleth reached for her hand, but Edelgard’s fingers slipped from hers, submerged by the power a particularly violent wave. All Byleth could do was watch, powerless, as Edelgard sank into the depths.

And suddenly she was alone again, in a boat on a turbulent sea, the last traces of sunlight gone forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My headcanon is that healing magic, in large doses, acts like an anaesthetic, i.e. it can make the beneficiary very tired and groggy afterwards.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	5. A Journey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy. Apparently I posted the last chapter twice. Now I don't want to delete it in case the system goes haywire. So this chapter 6, even though it's, err, technically chapter 5. Slightly later update than usual due to travel and ensuing jetlag. Enjoy!

Edelgard returned to work the next day, despite the head physician’s insistence that she needed another week of rest. “It’s important that the people know I’m alive and well,” she’d said, as determined as ever. Both Byleth and Hubert knew better than to argue with her.

Time moved slowly at first. Security in and around the palace had increased, but Byleth hardly minded; she and Edelgard were content spending their free time indoors, in the narrow spaces between the library bookshelves or the gentle light of the palace’s many parlours. The warm weather was followed by a spate of thunderstorms which made visiting the gardens less appealing, and even so, the usually placid atmosphere was tainted by the presence of soldiers patrolling every inch of the grounds, guarding any spot that seemed vulnerable. Anywhere that a would-be assassin could use as a route to the Emperor.

They received daily updates on the investigations into the perpetrator, but finding any hint of useful information was like trying to catch air. Not knowing anything more about him made Byleth feel increasingly uneasy, gripped by the sense that there could be a phantom threat lurking around every corner. The visions didn’t help. They were rare, but at night when the palace’s many distractions were no longer there to preoccupy her, they returned: images of Edelgard slipping beneath the water’s surface, dark currents dragging her underneath. Byleth tried to drive them out, focusing on something - _anything_ \- else instead: tracing the patterns on the bedchamber’s curtains or counting the days since the war had ended, or how many times her heart beat per minute.

Something Edelgard had said tugged at the edges of her mind as well: that one day she’d need to be ready to lose her. It was a possibility that Byleth couldn’t bear thinking about. She’d secretly hoped that they’d go at the same time, as old women, wrapped in each other’s arms as their lives slipped away, or something else stupidly implausible and romantic. But the reality was that there were people who harboured deep resentment towards the Emperor; resentment powerful enough to drive them to kill. 

And lurking beneath her skin, closer than any assassin could reach, was another threat: her crests. Byleth didn’t profess to be an expert on the science of crests, but she knew the effects that the experiments had had on Edelgard’s body: the scars that decorated her skin; the colour of her hair, now blinding white, but which was brown in the few portraits of her as a child. Then there were the less obvious signs: how she’d sometimes grow tired after a short walk, or suffer from shortness of breath or coughing fits. They were rare, but they still lingered beneath the surface like a dark cloud, and Byleth couldn’t silence the thought that the crests that had endowed Edelgard with so much power were slowly undoing her.

She didn’t share her thoughts with anyone else. Edelgard didn’t need another burden, not when she and Hubert were busy with their task of filling the Empire’s vacant ministerial positions, and there wasn’t anyone else for her to confide in. Byleth was used to solitude, but there were times when she craved the atmosphere of the monastery, the sound of voices in the dining hall or the atmosphere of the training grounds. Back then she could always distract herself by fishing in the monastery pond, but the palace pond was off limits; Edelgard could’ve easily granted her special dispensation to fish if she’d wanted, but it was hardly worth pestering her about.

It was the evening before they were due to leave the capital, and Byleth was huddled in a far corner of the library, browsing a collection of books on ancient board games when she heard the tell-tale tap of footsteps on the wooden floor. Hubert emerged from around a bookshelf, barely visible in the dim light of the room.

“Her Majesty would like to see both of us in her study,” he said.

Byleth wasn’t sure why Edelgard would want to see them both at this time in the evening, when the work day was drawing to a close anyway, but she obliged. When they reached the study, the Emperor was seated at her desk, surrounded by uneven piles of papers. But it was a thin wad of parchment in the centre of her desk that commanded her attention. She barely looked up as Byleth and Hubert entered the room.

“I’ve received a report from our spies in the western Empire,” she said, still not looking up from the desk. “I think they’ve identified our culprit.”

“Really?” Byleth approached the desk gingerly, placing a hand on the nape of Edelgard’s neck, straining to read the text on the paper. “And do you think this report is reliable?”

“We’ve dispatched some of our best agents to the area. They’re extremely diligent and trustworthy, and I have no reason to doubt their intelligence.” Edelgard sighed as she flicked through the pages of the report. “But the results are somewhat...unusual.”

“Unusual?” Hubert seemed intrigued. “Something suspicious about the culprit, your Majesty?”

“That’s part of the issue. There’s nothing suspicious about him at all. No history of dissent, no connections to the Church, or the nobility, or anyone else who might oppose me-” She laughed, but it was a hollow, nervous laugh. “It makes no sense. He worked in the mines. The people who knew him said he never spoke of politics, not even while the war was on.”

Byleth frowned. In some ways, it made sense: the western corner of the Empire had been relatively untouched by war, its geographic location meaning that it was shielded from most of the fighting, so it wasn’t surprising that one of its citizens hadn’t been particularly bothered by politics. But something still didn’t seem right.

“Sometimes the quiet ones can be the most dangerous, your Majesty,” said Hubert. “He might not have expressed his views in public, but that’s not to say he didn’t hold them privately.”

“But even his wife didn’t suspect him. She was distraught, apparently. She couldn’t believe that her husband could be capable of such a thing.”

“Perhaps there are things she didn’t want to disclose.”

Byleth reached for the report and began to flick through it, trying to disentangle the web of confusion in her mind. None of it made any sense. Why would a lowly miner from a distant corner of the Empire, one with no record of interest in the politics of the Empire, travel all the way to the capital to assassinate the Emperor? Only one idea stood out, but she almost didn’t want to consider it.

“My teacher?” Edelgard’s voice cut through the haze. “What do you think?”

“If you’re confused,” said Hubert, almost as if he’d read Byleth’s expression. “Then you’re certainly not alone. I can’t ascribe any possible motive to him at all.”

“There’s one thing,” she said. “It’s far-fetched, but it’s the only lead I can think of. You remember what your uncle said about trouble in the western Empire…” She trailed off as her mind whirred again: neither of them had given much thought to Arundel’s warnings since his visit, and Byleth had wanted to dismiss them as scaremongering, designed to remind Edelgard of how precarious her position was; how he and the rest of the slitherers could shatter the fragile peace in seconds. 

“You think they could be linked?” asked Edelgard. 

“It’s possible. We’d need a bit more detail on our perpetrator, as well as the locations and nature of any other incidents in the region. But it seems strange that a normally peaceful corner of the Empire would give rise to this sort of activity in such a short space of time.”

Hubert, who had been staring silently out of the window for a short while, spoke up again. “And I suppose what you’re going to say is that you think there’s something - or _someone_ \- controlling all of this behind the scenes?”

The three of them shared equally nervous glances, no one knowing how to break the tense silence. “I don’t know,” Byleth said finally. “It’s too early to say. But I think there’s good cause to investigate further.”

“Very well,” said Edelgard. “We’ll dispatch another set of agents to the region. And I expect twice-daily reports from the west from now on.”

“As you wish, your Majesty,” said Hubert. “Of course, we _are_ due to travel tomorrow, so your next report might have to wait until our return-”

Edelgard rested her chin in her hands, her expression glum. “I suppose you’re right. Do you think we should be going away at a time like this?”

“Please, your Majesty. After the events of the last few weeks, you owe yourself a short break. I think we could all benefit from one.”

She smiled weakly. “I suppose if _you’re_ suggesting that we all take a break, Hubert, then we definitely deserve it. Just promise me that you won’t spend the next few days thinking about work?”

“As much as it pains me to say it, your Majesty,” he replied, with a heavy sigh. “I promise I won’t think about work. If it will make you happy, that is. Although I’d be grateful if you’d give me some time to look over the report.”

Edelgard handed him the papers, and Hubert left the two of them alone in the study, no doubt retreating to one of his dark corners of the palace to peruse the report in peace. Byleth kneeled on the window seat, watching as the last traces of daylight faded into darkness, enveloping the streets of Enbarr below. Even with her back facing the room, she could sense Edelgard watching her.

“What’s troubling you, my teacher?”

“The same thing as you, I imagine.” Byleth sighed, stretching her weary limbs as she wandered over to the desk again. “I know I should be encouraged by the fact that they’ve found something, but I can’t stop myself from worrying.”

“I know. It seems almost wrong, leaving the capital when we’re finally getting to the bottom of this. But Hubert’s right: we deserve a break.”

“And do you think it’s safe to travel? Surely the capital is the safest place to be right now.”

“I promise that it’s safe, my love. I wouldn’t make you travel if I thought you’d be in any danger-”

“It’s not _me_ I’m worried about,” interjected Byleth. “Please, El. I trust you. But I can’t stand the thought of almost losing you again.” She placed Edelgard’s hand in hers, their fingers intertwining, hoping Edelgard wouldn’t notice the heavy thud of her heartbeat.

“I’m not going to leave you, Byleth. I know that I can’t make you stop worrying, but I can reassure you as much as possible, right?” She smiled, the warmth in her expression in contrast to the tiredness in her eyes, which were bloodshot. “We’ll have to be careful, of course. But aside from Hubert and me, no one else in the palace knows where we’re going. Not even the servants who’ll be accompanying us know our final destination. There’s no way that the information could leak.”

Byleth squeezed her hand, feeling some of her concerns melt away. But she couldn’t ignore the fact that very few people had known about their planned trip into the city those weeks ago, and the assassin had still struck. Away from the capital, amidst the fields and forests of the Empire, there were thousands of places for enemies to conceal themselves, and no gilded cages like the palace to protect them.

\-------------------------------

She and Edelgard packed separately, not wanting to see each other’s wedding outfits. Byleth had always packed light, a principle that a life of constant travel had instilled in her, but that had alarmed the maids, who insisted that she pack several changes of outfit: her robes for the ceremony, a separate dress for the evening and several unnecessary changes for the journey. She couldn’t bring herself to tell them not to bother, especially since they threw themselves into their task so enthusiastically.

They set off from the palace early, when the sun had only just crept over the horizon, the skies above Enbarr a blazing red. Edelgard assured her that the journey would take just over a day. Byleth hardly minded; long trips had been a regular feature of her life as a mercenary. She slept for most of it, her head resting on Edelgard’s shoulder. Occasionally a bump in the road would stir her from slumber, and she’d wake to find Edelgard wide-eyed, watching the passing scenery, snapshots of fields fusing together into a single image. The only time she slept was when they stopped at a small fort for the night, and Edelgard finally fell into a peaceful slumber, free from the nightmares that plagued her so often.

Rather than the elaborate imperial carriage, they travelled in a smaller, more basic vehicle so as not to attract any unwanted attention. Strictly speaking, it wasn’t just the two of them: Hubert came too, of course, and although Edelgard had insisted that she didn’t need a whole entourage, a handful of trusted servants and members of the Guard accompanied them as well, their carriage travelling a few metres behind the main one. 

Although it wasn’t exactly romantic, they had also brought weapons. Edelgard could never be separated from Aymr for too long: it sat opposite them, its edges glinting in the sunlight. Byleth had brought a basic steel sword, preferring to leave the Sword of the Creator in its usual resting place in a cupboard down the corridor from their bedchamber. After the war, she hadn’t had much use for it, and although stashing it away in some dark cupboard felt _wrong_, she couldn’t bring herself to take it outside either. It felt like a relic of her former life, her life before she’d chosen Edelgard, one that she almost wanted to forget.

Eventually the carriage drew to a halt, and the sound of movement outside lured Byleth away from sleep, Edelgard’s voice piercing the stupor. “Time to get up, my teacher. We’re here.”

Groggily, Byleth pulled herself upright and stepped out of the carriage, the world around her spinning. It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the harsh sunlight, but when they did, she could see a building. It was what appeared to be an old farmhouse, two storeys high, with white walls and latticed windows, and a garden overflowing with roses and other colourful flowers. It resembled something out of a children’s tale.

“Wow, El. It’s beautiful,” Byleth said. Yet she couldn’t help but wonder where she had come across such an enchanting but still modest house. “Does anyone live here?”

“My old nanny, several years back,” said Edelgard with a wistful smile. “She took care of me and my sisters when I was small. When I went to the Kingdom, she moved back here. Sadly she died a few years ago, and she had no children of her own to inherit it, so I asked some of the palace staff to look after the place in the meantime.”

“Did you get to come here a lot?”

“On occasion. They let us out sometimes of the palace sometimes, maybe twice a year. I suppose it was meant to be an incentive for cooperating. But whenever they did, they took us here. It was the only time we got to spend time outdoors.”

Byleth took in the sight of the building again, imagining a young Edelgard and her siblings having tea parties in the garden or chasing each other through the surrounding fields. It was easy to see why Edelgard had chosen the house: not only was it beautiful and quiet, but unlike the palace, it was a place flooded with happy memories, not hurt and darkness. 

She watched as the carriage footmen opened the gate and started hauling their baggage towards the front door. “Can we go inside?”

“Not yet.” Edelgard sounded sharp at first, but her expression softened quickly. “They’ll need to set the place up first. It’ll be ready in about an hour. Besides, there’s somewhere else I want to take you first.”

Byleth wasn’t sure what preparations Edelgard had in mind, or why they would need an hour to complete them, but she knew better than to ask questions. The house was surrounded by undulating fields, a narrow dirt track carving a path between two hedgerows, and Edelgard led her down it, their arms linked. After around ten minutes of near silence, after Byleth realised that Edelgard wasn’t going to give away their destination, the path turned a corner and began sloping downwards until it met the beach.

She stopped, taking in the sight of the sight of the ocean, the water’s surface sparkling in the afternoon sunlight. “I thought you hated the sea,” she said.

“It’s not so much the sea I hate,” said Edelgard. “Just the swimming part. But it’s been such a long time since I was here that it seems wrong not to even paddle.” 

They continued to walk until the path disappeared entirely, and they reached the edge of the sand. The tide was out, bedraggled heaps of kelp strewn across the sand, hungry gulls circling overhead. Although the sea was fairly calm, Byleth couldn’t ignore the knot in her stomach. Barely ten metres from the shore, twisting currents pulled at the water’s surface, the gentle waves concealing the depths below. The image of Edelgard descending into the black resurfaced in her mind, and she forced herself to push it away. “Are you sure you want to go in?” she asked.

Edelgard had already kicked off her shoes, and was in the process of removing her stockings, a task that was complicated by the number of underskirts she was wearing. “Of course I do. Now help me take these off.” She dropped onto the sand, and Byleth kneeled down to assist her, peeling away the fabric until Edelgard’s tiny feet were bare. 

Byleth reached down and untied the laces on her own shoes. She’d decided to wear trousers rather than her usual shorts and stockings, which she rolled up until they were above her knees. “Just promise me you won’t go too far out, OK?”

“You don’t need to protect me, my teacher,” said Edelgard, who was on her feet again. “But if it makes you feel any better, I can hold onto your arm. Anyway, I hope you’ve limbered up properly after that long carriage ride.” 

Byleth’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Because you’re going to race me to the sea.”

Before Byleth had a chance to argue, Edelgard had already begun sprinting towards the water’s edge, leaping over patches of seaweed. Byleth knew she could beat her in a race - the only person in the Strike Force who could best her on speed was Petra - but with Edelgard’s head start and her bare feet catching on rough shells and pebbles, there was no hope of catching her. 

Edelgard was already up to her ankles in the water by the time Byleth reached her, but she was doubled over, inhaling mouthfuls of air, her cheeks flushed red. Byleth approached her slowly, placing a gentle hand on Edelgard’s back. “Are you alright?” she asked.

“I-I’m fine,” said Edelgard, although the raspiness of her voice suggested otherwise.

“We can go back to the house, you know-”

“No. I’m fine.” She stood up straight again, placing a hand on Byleth’s arm. “Just- let me hold on to you, OK?”

A particularly powerful wave surged up the beach, almost reaching their knees, and Byleth gasped at the shock of the cold. Edelgard shrieked, clearly unused to cold water, her grip tightening on Byleth’s arm to steady herself.

“You’re awfully unsteady on your feet,” Byleth teased. “Perhaps you’re better suited to dry land.”

“Nonsense,” said Edelgard her lips curving into a sly smile. “You keep trying to persuade me to leave, my teacher. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you’re scared of getting wet-”

“Me? Afraid of a bit of water? You’ll have to try harder than that.” Byleth took a cautious step forward, the water submerging her knees. Edelgard followed her, but the force of another rushing wave caused her to lose her balance, her grip on Byleth’s wrist becoming vice-like. It wasn’t enough to steady her though, and she plunged downwards into the water, dragging Byleth down with her.

The water wasn’t deep, but compared to the warm air it still felt penetratingly cold, and Byleth had to stifle a shriek as she landed on her backside. Edelgard, in contrast, was silent, clearly too stunned from the fall to speak. For a few moments they remained still, the crash of the waves and squawks of the gulls providing the only sound, until Edelgard started laughing. 

“I’m sorry, my dearest. This isn’t _exactly_ what I had in mind for our trip to the beach.”

Byleth leaned over and kissed her, failing to conceal a smile. “It’s just a good job that we’re not wearing our wedding clothes. The maids would have a fit.”

“They’ll have a fit anyway if they see me like this.” Edelgard sighed with exasperation. “I swear, the palace staff treat me like I’m a china doll sometimes. Like I’ll break if I so much as trip over. They seem to forget that led a whole army to victory in the war.”

“I know, my wonderful, strong Emperor. Even if you were defeated by a simple wave-” Byleth ducked out of the way as Edelgard aimed a playful punch at her arm. “Besides, don’t push yourself _too_ hard, OK? Even rulers are supposed to have weaknesses.”

“I suppose you’re right. I’m not as powerful as I like to think. I can’t even _swim_, Byleth. Even small children outside the capital are better than me. Petra once said that children in Brigid can swim before they can walk-”

“I wouldn’t believe _everything_ that Petra says,” said Byleth. “But I’ll teach you to swim one day. I swear.” It was a hollow promise: she knew it would be difficult to coax Edelgard out into the open sea, and she didn’t want to anyway, not while the visions of drowning still tormented her. But she liked to have plans for the future sketched out in her mind; even if they remained permanently out of reach, talking about them made them seem real somehow. 

Byleth helped Edelgard to her feet, and they paddled a bit more until Byleth could no longer stand the cold water. She walked up the beach and sat on the edge of the grass, watching as Edelgard carried on splashing around in the shallows and trying to jump over the waves as they broke on the shore. She had waded in even deeper, the hem of her dress still soaked, but she either hadn’t noticed or didn’t care. Byleth hadn’t seen her look so free before, so unconstrained by the trappings of her position. But she refused to take her eyes off her, still gripped by the fear that the waves would sweep her away.

The sound of grass rustling distracted her, and she looked up to find Hubert. He raised his eyebrows at the sight of her damp clothes, but didn’t ask what had happened, and instead sat down on the grass beside her.

“I’m guessing it’s been a long time since you’ve seen her like this,” said Byleth.

“Not since before we started at the Academy. I was allowed to accompany her on these visits as a child. But even then, she was scared of the water. We both preferred to stay on dry land.” He smiled, as if he’d unearthed a particularly fond memory. “But I suppose some things change.”

“For better, I hope?”

“I believe so. Sometimes we all have to do things that fall outside our comfort zone.” He stared down at his hands, as if searching for a way to change the subject. “I suppose you’re all prepared for the ceremony tomorrow?”

“I’m not sure that _prepared_ is the right word. Not when Edelgard appears to have a few surprises planned.”

“I can assure you that any surprises Her Majesty has prepared are for your mutual benefit, not to trip you up. Of course, I assume you’re familiar with Fódlan wedding customs-”

“Actually, I’m not. I’ve never been to a wedding.” Upon seeing Hubert’s bemused expression, Byleth decided to press on. “When I was growing up, it was just me, my father, and the other mercenaries. We never settled down in one place, which meant we never stayed anywhere long enough to have friends or family. Going to weddings wasn’t something we had time for anyway.”

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” Hubert said dryly. “A person who grew up in Fódlan with no exposure to the Church...your father certainly kept you sheltered from the world.”

“You could say that, yes.” Byleth wasn’t sure whether to feel embarrassed or not. She wouldn’t have traded her childhood with Jeralt for anything, but she couldn’t deny that there were experiences she’d missed out on as a result.

“Then again, it seems rather poetic that the first wedding you attend should be your own,” said Hubert. “At least yours will be quiet rather than some ghastly elaborate affair like the ones nobles used to throw.” He rolled his eyes with the air of a man who’d been forced to attend numerous such events as a child. “And at least holding a private ceremony means you won’t have to tolerate comments from fools who disapprove of your marriage.”

“Hmm? Like who, exactly?”

“You remember what her Majesty’s uncle said. There are some people - ex-nobles, mostly - who no doubt think that her marriage to you is unwise. Dangerous, even. That rather than pursuing a love marriage she should be seeking to form a political union instead.”

Byleth raised an eyebrow. “And do you agree with them?”

“Not at all. There is nothing I despise more than the idea of her marrying some unworthy self-important fool for the sake of a fragile political alliance.” He looked back out at the sea, wincing slightly as a strong wave almost knocked Edelgard off her feet again. “I want nothing more than her happiness and success. So it’s fortunate that she is marrying the person who makes her happier than anyone else in the world. It should go without saying that I am extremely pleased for you both.”

“Not that my opinions should matter to you,” he added. “The only person whose opinions you should care for is the one currently trying to jump over waves-”

“Quite the contrary. Hubert,” said Byleth. “Your opinions are hugely valuable to Edelgard, and to me as well. And what you said...is very kind. It means a lot to me. In fact, if I didn’t think you were so averse to physical displays of affection, I’d _probably_ give you a hug-”

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t, but I can assure you that the sentiment is mutual.” 

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes more until Edelgard returned, sand caking her damp feet and her usually fair skin glowing. Once she had dried off, the three of them decided to return to the house. Hubert walked ahead, his brisk strides powering him forward until he disappeared from view. Edelgard was walking more slowly than usual, which Byleth suspected was partly due to her shoes feeling uncomfortable about her wet feet, but there was a trace of something else in the way she gripped Byleth’s arm, almost as if she was afraid of falling.

In the distance she could see the house looming. The garden gate was open, but the house itself was still, as if there was no one inside, and the two carriages that had been parked outside had vanished.

“Where’s the rest of the entourage then?” asked Byleth.

“There’s an inn a short distance from here that they’ll be staying in,” said Edelgard nonchalantly. “Trust me, it took some convincing. They were aghast at the idea of leaving us unattended for a couple of nights. Only a couple of the Imperial Guard will be staying here overnight.”

“They could all stay here, you know,” said Byleth. “I’m sure there’s plenty of room inside.”

Edelgard didn’t respond, which did nothing to dispel Byleth’s suspicions. The back door to the house was unlocked, although the servants and soldiers were nowhere to be seen, presumably having already left for the inn. They had entered the kitchen, where someone had left a small fire burning in the grate, bathing the room in soft light, illuminating the old pictures on the walls and the pans hanging from the ceiling. Although modest, there was something that Byleth found comforting about the room, so different to the cold grandeur of the palace.

“Look, my teacher,” said Edelgard. "I suppose it’s time I told you the truth.”

Byleth raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Is this where you tell me that you’ve lured me into a massive trap? Is there a witch upstairs who plans to cook me over the fire?”

Edelgard laughed. “You really are something. It’s not _that_. It’s just-” She stared down at the flagstones, wearing the sheepish expression and soft blush that Byleth recognised from the rare occasions when she’d been embarrassed. “When I said it was just going to be the two of us and Hubert, well, that wasn’t entirely true. I invited some other people too. Just a select few.”

“And when are these honoured guests arriving?”

Edelgard remained silent, but took hold of Byleth’s hand and led her into the hallway. At the end of the corridor was a spiral staircase leading to the upper floors, but halfway down, on the left wall, stood a single door. Byleth hesitated, but upon receiving a nod from Edelgard, she approached it cautiously. 

She was about to place a hand on the doorknob, but the door burst open before she could reach for it. Something - _someone_ \- shot through the doorway and tackled her around the middle, causing her to stumble backwards into the wall. Instincts from her mercenary days told her to reach for a dagger, but she was unarmed, and before she could aim a swift punch in its direction, her assailant had pulled her into an enthusiastic embrace.

“Surprise, Professor! Bet you thought you’d seen the last of us, huh?”

Although she hadn’t quite recovered from the tackle, Byleth still recognised the flash of pale blue hair and toothy grin - Caspar hadn’t changed a bit in the few months since she’d last seen him. Something else he’d said resonated with her: _us_. She peered over his shoulder, and sure enough, lingering beyond the door frame, were the other members Black Eagle Strike Force. 

The last traces of shock melted away, replaced by an indescribable warmth that Byleth hadn’t felt for some time. She looked back at Edelgard, who appeared incandescent with rage. “_Caspar!_ You were supposed to wait until she opened the door before shouting ‘surprise’, not just storm out like a wild animal-”

“Believe me, your Majesty,” said Hubert irritably from inside the room. “I gave everyone very clear instructions, but of course, _someone_ wasn’t listening. And if only _someone else_ had been keeping his behaviour in check-” 

The sound of a heavy sigh followed. “You can’t expect me to watch over him all the time. It’s far too exhausting.” Linhardt’s drawl was as familiar as ever. “Nice to see you by the way, Professor.”

Byleth freed her arm from Caspar’s hug and waved at the room’s inhabitants. All of them were there: Bernie, sleeker and more confident than Byleth had seen her before; Petra dressed in her characteristic vivid clothing, her hair twisted into an elaborate braid; Dorothea beside her, her hair also braided, having no doubt become accustomed to the styles of Brigid. Even Ferdinand had returned from his mission in Almyra, his flowing hair scooped back into a ponytail, and a thin layer of stubble coating his chin. 

“You- how did you all-”

“Edelgard was inviting us,” said Petra gleefully. “We were not knowing that you planned to get married so soon, but when we heard, we were feeling over the sun-”

“The moon, Petra. Not the sun.” Dorothea’s voice. “Oh, Professor. It’s so nice to have everyone in the same place again. I never thought we’d get the chance, what with everyone being so busy.”

“Listen to you all,” said Byleth, her smile widening. “It’s like nothing’s changed. You’re even calling me Professor still.” 

“But you’ll always be our professor, Professor,” said Bernadetta. “Even if you technically stopped being a teacher years ago, it’s how we still think of you-” 

“I bet Edelgard still calls you ‘my teacher’, doesn’t she?” interjected Ferdinand. “Even though you’re about to be her wife-”

“That’s quite enough, Ferdinand,” said Edelgard, her cheeks a furious shade of pink. “Anyway, can’t you all give Byleth some air? She’s probably still getting her breath back after being tackled against the wall-”

“Hey!” protested Caspar. “It wasn’t a tackle, OK? It was a hug. It might’ve been a _little_ enthusiastic-”

“Oh look at you, Edie. Such a protective wife-to-be-”

“Dorothea, _please_. Let’s all sit down rather than congregating out here, OK? We’ve all had to travel far to get here.”

“Some further than others,” said Ferdinand. “Do you know how long it takes to travel from Almyra to here? I haven’t even had the chance to shave yet-”

“Truly devastating,” said Linhardt dryly. “A tragedy for our times.”

“You should get Dorothea to write an opera about it,” said Caspar. “Wait, do you even _have_ opera in Brigid?”

“Dorothea is performing her first opera in Brigid in two weeks,” beamed Petra. “People are not really knowing what opera is now, but when they are hearing Dorothea’s beautiful voice, they will be wanting to learn much more.”

“Petra, please,” said Dorothea, hiding her face in faux-embarrassment. “You don’t need to compliment me. But yes, I’ll be starring in the inaugural Brigid opera very soon. Although it won’t be about Ferdie’s inability to complete his beauty regime-”

“It is _not_ a beauty regime! Shaving is an essential component of male hygiene-”

Their bickering voices fused into a wall of noise, and Byleth had to stifle a laugh. She scanned the room until her gaze settled on Edelgard, who was standing beside the kitchen door, and although there was still a trace of blush on her cheeks, the warmth in her smile was undeniable. This had been her doing: reuniting the Strike Force, ensuring that they remained bound by a single thread, even though they were all busy cutting their own paths. Any worries she’d had about the next few days ebbed away, and the images of Edelgard being swallowed up by the sea were no longer sharp and vivid, but pale and fuzzy, as distant as the stars in the sky.

She had chosen the right path.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my El headcanons is that she has unusually small feet - like child-sized - and all her shoes are specially made because pre-made ones are always too big for her.
> 
> Thanks for reading and for the comments/kudos!


	6. A Wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's taken me a while to publish this update. Hopefully this megachapter makes up for it. Be warned that the end of this chapter isn't SFW.
> 
> Happy Halloween everyone!
> 
> Edit: I dun goofed and temporarily messed up the order of chapters. It should be fixed now! This one (A Wedding) is chapter 6 and the most recent.

Since moving into the palace, Byleth hadn’t had to cook for herself once, not with a whole army of cooks and a pantry overflowing with exotic ingredients that she couldn’t even name, let alone create a dish from. She almost missed the drudgery of simple tasks that she used to hate, like chopping vegetables and scraping left-over food from everyone’s dishes once they’d finished eating. So it was nice to be back in the kitchen again, like it had been back at the monastery, surrounded by the former members of the Strike Force. 

Once the others had finished their reunion, including taking it in turns to admire the ring Edelgard had given her, she’d settled into her task of peeling potatoes. A small group of them had volunteered for kitchen duty while the rest dispersed around the house and garden.

Only Hubert was unoccupied for a change, and he’d taken to lingering in the kitchen doorway. “I haven’t seen Her Majesty for a while,” he said. “I don’t suppose you have any idea where she went?”

Byleth shrugged, wincing as she almost sliced her hand with the knife. “I think she just went to our room to unpack.”

“_Your_ room?” interjected Dorothea, sounding aghast. “Professor, you and Edelgard can’t share a room the night before your wedding. It’s bad luck.”

Linhardt rolled his eyes from across the kitchen. “Oh Dorothea, don’t tell me you believe in all these outdated superstitions...”

“Don’t be such an old cynic, Lin.” Her eyes narrowed in his direction, before her gaze honed in on the unpeeled pile of carrots beside him. “Besides, shouldn’t you be focusing on your work? You haven’t chopped a single carrot yet-”

“I’m _trying_, OK? It’s just hard to keep up with carrot duty when I really ought to be having my evening nap at this time.”

As it was a pleasant evening, they’d lit a fire in a pit outside rather than using the kitchen stove. Byleth glanced out of the window at the flames crackling in the pit, clouds of smoke pooling upwards into the early evening sky. A few feet away, Caspar was preparing to launch an attempt at leaping over the flames, while Bernadetta watched fearfully from behind a bush.

“He’s going to get himself killed,” said Ferdinand despairingly. “How on earth have you managed to keep him alive for the last few months?”

Linhardt shrugged. “He gets himself injured a lot. Fortunately for him, it’s nothing that a bit of white magic can’t fix.”

“And you are enjoying taking care of him, are you not?” teased Petra, watching as Linhardt’s cheeks turned from their usual white to a light pink.

“Almost as much as you’re enjoying taking care of Dorothea, I’m sure-”

They were interrupted by the sound of the kitchen door opening, and Edelgard entered, followed by another small, white-haired figure. Even though her hair had been cut short, Byleth recognised the young woman instantly. Lysithea had been a late addition to their army, joining their ranks when they’d conquered what had been the Alliance. Byleth hadn’t seen or heard from her since the war had finished; once the fighting had ended, she had announced her intention to return to her family, and she hadn’t been in touch since. She couldn’t help but wonder whether the wedding invite has been the first time Edelgard had communicated with her, or whether there’d been other occasions before then, other exchanges of letters that she wasn’t aware of.

“There’s someone else who’s come to join us,” said Edelgard. “It wouldn’t be fair to have a Black Eagles reunion without inviting our newest member.”

“Oh Lys. I’m so glad you could join us!” Dorothea hurried over to her, pulling the smaller girl into an enthusiastic hug. 

“There’s no need to _crush_ her, Dorothea,” said Linhardt dryly. “Although I must say, it is a pleasant surprise to see you here, Lysithea.”

Dorothea pulled away, and Byleth was able to get a closer look at Lysithea. She had always been petite, but in the dim kitchen light she appeared slighter than ever, her face gaunter than before. “Thank you both,” she said, with a faded smile. “I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to make it. Although when Edelgard told me that-” 

She stopped speaking as her breath hitched in her throat, clutching her hands to her chest as her body was wracked by coughing.

“You should rest,” said Edelgard, placing a hand on the younger girl’s arm. “I’m sure the journey has taken it out of you. We have a bed prepared upstairs-”

“I’m fine, Edelgard,” Lysithea insisted. “Really. Just let me know if there’s anything I can do to help prepare the food, OK?”

Byleth forced a smile. “Edelgard’s right. You should sit down, Lysithea. I’m sure we can manage-”

She was cut off by the sound of a howl ringing out from across the kitchen; Ferdinand had slashed his finger while trying to carve the meat, blood beginning to spill from the cut. Linhardt initially looked horrified, but with a quick wave of his hand, white magic surged across the from and Ferdinand’s bleeding ceased.

Eventually the sun disappeared and twilight arrived, the fire burning brightly in the pit as they cooked. The group had settled around the fire, which provided a welcome antidote to the evening chill. Ferdinand had brought a case of what he called the finest Almyran wine, and after some coaxing, Edelgard agreed to open a couple of bottles, with the strict instructions that the rest had to be saved for tomorrow. Byleth tried a sip: she had never been enamoured with alcohol anyway, and the alleged ‘fine wine’ was so acidic that it almost burned her throat, but she liked the way it helped her relax, and the warmth it instilled inside her.

It was the first opportunity she’d had to speak to her former students about their lives since the war had ended. Keeping in touch through letters wasn’t the same as hearing their voices as they related tales of what they’d been up to. Caspar spun some heroic anecdote about how he and Linhardt had taken down a group of bandits by themselves, something that Byleth suspected was _slightly_ embellished, but hearing him tell it was amusing nonetheless. Bernie had established a home for children orphaned by war in her family’s old estate, and was busy knitting a whole menagerie of stuffed animals for them. Dorothea talked about how she was settling into life in Brigid and navigating the cultural differences between there and Fódlan, with Petra’s assistance.

“And what would you say your favourite aspect of Brigid culture is, Dorothea?” asked Ferdinand. There was a mischievous note in his voice, almost as if he was teasing her.

“Well,” said Dorothea, oblivious to Ferdinand’s attempts to rile her. “The hunts are always fun. Did you know that everyone in Brigid gets involved on hunt days, even the royal family? Petra here took down a whole wolverine by herself the other day.”

Petra blushed, trying to conceal her face behind her cup of wine. “You are giving me far too many compliments, Dorothea,” she said.

“Anyway,” continued Dorothea. “Tell me, Ferdie, how are you enjoying Almyra? I would’ve thought that a country like that would be far too wild for a boy like you-”

“You underestimate me, dear Dorothea,” he said smugly. “I am perfectly capable of handling the more _unique_ aspects of Almyran culture without a suitor to assist me.” 

“I see. So you’re not in a rush to return to the Empire any time soon?”

Ferdinand leaned back, taking a hearty swig of his wine. “I will stay in Almyra for as long as Her Majesty requires me there.”

Byleth glanced over at Edelgard, who was too busy sipping her own wine to comment. “I’m just glad that you’re all here now,” she said, in an attempt to change the subject. “It feels-” She paused, contemplating whether what she was about to say was too hackneyed, but the wine-induced haze propelled her onwards. “It almost feels like old times. Like it was before the war ended.”

“Exactly like that!” piped up Bernie. “Except, you know, without all the fighting and blood and-”

“Oh Bern,” laughed Dorothea. “You’re _such_ a ray of sunshine.”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” shrieked Bernie, her cheeks turning a shade of flush. “I just meant that, you know, if it hadn’t been for the fighting and bloodshed, we wouldn’t be sitting round the fire like this now. I’d probably still be shut in my room somewhere.” 

She laughed nervously, as if unsure of how the others would respond. Although somewhat morbid, Byleth thought that she had a point. Their time spent together, both before and during the war years, had transformed them all into what she hoped were greater versions of themselves. 

Byleth rarely gave any thought to the students who’d fallen along the way, ghosts of friends from years gone by. It wasn’t that she didn’t care; it was just that remembering only brought hurt and pain. Someone - possibly at the monastery, although it seemed like a fragment from a very distant past - had told her how human minds could repress painful memories and thoughts; she wondered if that was why the faces of those left behind seemed faded and blurry now, like old portraits that had decayed in the sun. 

Eventually the others drifted off to bed. Lysithea was first to go, claiming that it was the journey that had left her tired, followed by Dorothea and Petra together, then Bernie. Linhardt had fallen asleep a couple of hours earlier, his head lolling against Caspar’s shoulder. Caspar, who was on his third glass of Almyran red, either hadn’t noticed or didn’t mind, but eventually he scooped the sleeping body of his friend into his arms as if he weighed nothing, and carried him back into the house. 

Only Edelgard, Hubert and Ferdinand remained around the fire, sharing the remnants of the wine between them as the fire began to wane.

“So, Edelgard.” Ferdinand learned forward, his chin resting in his hands. “Aren’t you going to tell us what you have in store for the ceremony?”

“Yes, your Majesty,” added Hubert. “It would be gracious of you to share at least a few details of what to expect tomorrow. Especially since our dear Professor told me that she’s never attended a wedding before-”

“Hey! That was supposed to between you and me, alright?” interjected Byleth.

“My teacher, _really_?” Edelgard seemed genuinely stunned. “If I’d have known, I wouldn’t have prepared so many surprises...”

“It’s alright, my love. It’s not like we’re going into battle. Just give me a _rough_ idea of what to expect, OK?”

Ferdinand laughed. “Knowing Edelgard, I wouldn’t be surprised if going into battle is our post-ceremony entertainment-”

“Oh do stop, Ferdinand,” said Edelgard with a swift roll of her eyes, before turning back to Byleth. “Traditionally the ceremony would be officiated by a member of the Church of Seiros, but of course, since that’s no longer possible, a member of the government will conduct the ceremony instead. The couple say their vows, people can make speeches if they like, and then everyone celebrates.”

Byleth couldn’t help but marvel at how simple she made it sound, as if committing to another person for life was as simple as emptying the palace bins. “And who will be officiating our ceremony, then? You, Hubert?”

Hubert gave her an amused smirk. “There’s no need to worry about that. Of course, if Her Majesty had asked me, I would have happily obliged. But she knows that public speaking isn’t exactly one of my specialties.”

“Then who?” asked Ferdinand. “Surely you can’t officiate your own wedding ceremony.”

“Well,” Edelgard took a slow sip from her glass. “Ferdinand, I was actually going to ask if _you_ wanted to be our officiant-”

Ferdinand almost spat out a mouthful of his expensive wine. “I can only assume that you’re joking,” he said. “I may be your trade envoy, but I’m not sure if that qualifies me to conduct a marriage ceremony.”

“Well, that hardly matters any more,” said Edelgard matter-of-factly. “As of today, I’m terminating your employment as trade envoy to Almyra. I will allow you to travel back to collect your things and tie up any loose ends, but I expect you to return to Enbarr immediately after then.”

Ferdinand’s eyes widened in horror. “Terminating my employment? You’re _firing_ me!?”

“You could say that,” said Edelgard, a wry smile playing around her lips. “You should see this as a necessary step, because it’s about time that I had a new Prime Minister to help me govern, I am appointing you to the post. Unless you have any strong objections, you will begin your new role immediately.”

Silence settled over their group, only the crackling of the dying fire disturbing the stillness. For once, Ferdinand appeared temporarily lost for words. 

“You can speak, you know,” said Hubert dryly.

“But I thought-” Ferdinand practically choked the words out. “I thought that you no longer wanted people to inherit titles. That you wanted to appoint people on merit rather than family name-”

“Precisely,” said Edelgard. “And in your case, I can think of no one better suited to or more qualified for the role. You’ve been preparing for this role all your life, have you not? Unless you have someone else in mind?”

“Of course not, Edel- I mean, your Majesty. I just never imagined in a million years that you’d-” 

“Oh do stop your incessant blathering,” sighed Hubert. “The very least you could do is _thank_ Her Majesty for putting her faith in you and accept her offer.”

“Of course I accept!” Ferdinand’s cheeks had turned pink, presumably from a mixture of surprise, joy and mild inebriation. “And I am grateful, your Majesty, for putting your faith in me. I can assure you that Prime Minister Ferdinand von Aegir will _never_ let you down.”

Edelgard beamed, swilling the last of wine around in the bottom of her glass. “I’m glad to hear it, Ferdinand. And I take it that you’re happy to officiate the ceremony as well?”

His elation appeared to fade slightly. “Well, of course, if that’s what you want. Although I must insist that I’m hardly the most qualified-” 

Edelgard interrupted him with a laugh. “Oh, Ferdinand. I never thought you’d say this, but you have far too little faith in yourself.”

\-------------

Following Dorothea’s sage advice, Byleth and Edelgard slept in separate rooms that night. It occurred to her that, other than the two nights that Edelgard had spent in the infirmary, it had been months since they hadn’t shared a bed. Byleth knew it was just for one night, but her bed felt so empty without the soothing presence of her girlfriend beside her, and only the sound of Bernie’s occasional sleep-mumbling and Lysithea’s coughing to remind her that she wasn’t alone. 

Another Fódlan wedding tradition that Dorothea insisted on upholding was that, on the day, the married couple weren’t supposed to see each other until the ceremony itself. Avoiding Edelgard was harder than Byleth thought: of course, it would’ve been easier back in the palace, with its labyrinth of corridors and hundreds of rooms. In the small farmhouse, it was a much more arduous task, and Byleth spent most of the morning in the bedroom, except for a brief trip to the kitchen to collect her breakfast.

She changed into her outfit an hour before, the other girls helping her slip into her robes. Petra helped braid her hair into what she described as a traditional Brigid wedding hairstyle, and Bernie had crafted her a bouquet from the plants in the garden, overflowing with verdant leaves and pale flowers. Byleth gazed at her reflection in the mirror, unused to seeing herself dressed so impeccably. From behind her she heard someone - Dorothea, most likely - let out a sob, and she stifled a smile.

“There’s no need to be sad, you know. This is meant to be a happy occasion-”

“I’m not sad, Professor!” Dorothea said, dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief. “I’m just so thrilled for you and Edie, OK? Both of you deserve so much happiness after everything you’ve been through.” 

“Dorothea is liking weddings greatly,” said Petra, her arm linking with Dorothea’s, and any doubts Byleth held about the nature of their relationship ebbed away further. “Weddings in Brigid are being very big celebrations. Everyone is invited, and there is plenty of feasting afterwards.”

“You’ll have to invite us to a wedding in Brigid, Petra,” said Bernie. “Surely you and Dorothea are the next ones in our group to get hitched, right?”

Dorothea blushed. “Well, it _could_ be us who get married next. That’s if Lin and Cas don’t get there first.”

Byleth stared at her in mild surprise. “They’re a couple too?”

“Come on, Professor,” said Dorothea. “There’s a reason why they both gave up everything just to travel the world together, and it’s not because they’re ‘good friends’. They’re in love. _Hopelessly_ so. One day, I’m sure someone will write an opera about all of us.”

_Makes sense_, Byleth thought. It was hardly surprising that the other members of the Strike Force had grown close during and after the war; that days of seemingly endless battles and nights spent not knowing whether they’d survive had had the effect of binding them together.

It was a pleasant afternoon, and the air in the garden was still warm in spite of the sea breeze. The flowerbeds were so overgrown, the stems of the various flowers and shrubberies stretching upwards to the sky, that most of the garden was concealed from view. Byleth peered round the edge of one of the beds, where a crop of sunflowers bloomed magnificently: a narrow path cut its way through the rows of flowers, and at the end she could see a white wooden arch.

“You have to wait here,” Dorothea insisted. “The married couple always walk down the aisle together.”

Byleth watched as she, Petra and Bernie disappeared down the aisle. It wasn’t really an aisle - more a gap between the flowerbeds - but Byleth hardly minded. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, acutely aware, for the first time, of how nervous she felt. Until this day, they had thought of getting married in abstracts, the concept so distant and removed from their immediate priorities. Byleth had to remind herself that it was just a natural continuation of their lives together: that a ceremony didn’t change how she felt about Edelgard. But that didn’t stop her heart from pounding in her chest.

The sound of footsteps resonated behind her, and she turned to face their owner, her breath catching in her throat as she did.

Edelgard was dressed in a set of flowing white robes, pinned at the front by a brooch in the shape of an eagle. Her hair had been swept back off her face, adorned with her usual golden horns, and from the back of her head spilled a long white veil, embroidered with opulent red flowers and climbing vines. Byleth counted the flowers on her veil: ten in total, their petals outstretched as if reaching for the sun, blooming in spite of adversity. A sudden tightness gripped her throat, and her eyes were bleary with tears.

Edelgard smiled as she placed a hand on Byleth’s arm. “Come, my teacher. You’re meant to save your tears for _during_ the ceremony, not before-”

Byleth laughed, wiping the solitary tear from her cheek. “You can’t turn up looking this beautiful and then tell me not to cry, you know.” Just months ago, this would have been unfathomable: before the war she had only cried once, emotions still unfamiliar concepts to her. Now the sight of her wife-to-be in her wedding robes was enough to provoke tears.

“Shall we walk?” said Edelgard. “Our guests are expecting us.”

Byleth nodded. She placed one hand in Edelgard’s, the other clutching her bouquet, her heart still racing joyfully in her chest. The aisle seemed to stretch on infinitely, but with Edelgard by her side, Byleth would’ve happily walked for miles. In reality it was only a short walk, and eventually the flowers cleared, giving way to a small patio area, where most of their guests were seated on wooden chairs. 

Ferdinand stood by the archway, dressed in a pristine white suit, his hands clutching a leather-bound book. Gentle notes of music drifted through the afternoon air, and when Byleth glanced to her left, she saw the harp, which was being deftly played by Linhardt. For a moment, Byleth watched him in amusement: she wasn’t sure how they’d managed to transport the harp to the house, or when Linhardt had mustered the energy to learn to play it, but the music was so soothing that it didn’t matter. 

They reached the foot of the arch, and the music ceased. Ferdinand cleared his throat, and Byleth noticed that his hands were trembling gently as he opened the book.

“Friends and comrades,” he said. “We have joined together at this beloved place to celebrate the union of two souls. Today we give thanks and hope that your spirits may join together to form something bigger than yourselves, and that you may be each other’s wings.”

Byleth glanced across at Edelgard, who appeared to be suppressing laughter: whether from nerves or genuine amusement she couldn’t tell. Whatever it was, it appeared to be contagious, as Byleth found herself biting her lip to stop a giggle from escaping as well. The grandiose language seemed a million times funnier when read out in Ferdinand’s booming tones. The rest of his introduction passed in a languid haze, the scene around her - the flowers, the archway, the faces of their friends - blending into a dreamlike blur. 

She only returned to reality when it was time for them to recite the vows.

It was Edelgard’s turn to speak the vows first, repeating the words steadily after Ferdinand.  
“I promise to walk with you always, to be your sword and shield, the sun that illuminates your dawn and the moon that greets your dusk. Though our path may pass through fire and storms, I will never leave your side-”

The words were unfamiliar, but when it was Byleth’s turn, they still spilled from her lips so naturally that it was if they were written across her heart. She realised that she was talking quickly; partly from nerves, she suspected, but also from a desire to bring the ceremony to a close, to make their union _real_.

“And now we will mark your union with the tying of the thread.”

_The thread?_ No one had told Byleth about _that_. She recoiled slightly as Hubert approached her and Edelgard with a strip of red material. Edelgard held out her hand and beckoned for Byleth to do the same. She placed her palm flat against Edelgard’s as Hubert wrapped the crimson thread around their adjoining wrists, before tying it in a loose bow. “And never will it be broken,” he said.

The guests repeated the words back to him, and Byleth couldn’t hold back the laughter, tears prickling in her eyes again. She forced her face back into a neutral expression, but someone in the audience - a quick glance told her that it was Bernadetta - had started giggling as well, and laughter rippled through the small crowd. Only Ferdinand was still trying to maintain an air of seriousness.

“If you’re all _finished_,” he said. “By the laws of the Adrestian Empire, and in the name of Her Imperial Majesty, I pronounce you married. You may kiss-” 

Byleth didn’t need prompting. Despite the thread still binding one of her hands to Edelgard, she wasted no time in pulling her wife close, their lips meeting as the sound of cheers and applause resonated throughout the garden. The last thing she saw before she closed her eyes were Edelgard’s violet ones staring back at her, filled with warmth and love, as all the fears and worries of the past few months melted away like candle wax. 

_Edelgard_. Her wife. The women she had been drawn to by chance, like magnets in the dark; who she’d thrown herself in front of an axe for before she even knew her name. Her student, her Emperor, her girlfriend, her _wife_.

The sun to her moon. The crimson to her ash.

She didn’t want the kiss to end, but eventually they pulled away. Edelgard raised her bouquet almost triumphantly, prompting an enthusiastic cheer from some sections of their audience, including someone - Dorothea, probably - who yelled at her to throw it. 

“Go on,” said Byleth with a grin. “Throw it.”

Edelgard turned her back to the crowd and used her untied hand to throw the bouquet clumsily. Byleth watched as it sailed a few feet through the air, a few of their friends - mostly Dorothea and Caspar - scrambling to seize it, only for it to land unceremoniously at Hubert’s feet.

The servants who’d spent their night at the inn had returned to pour out glasses of wine for the guests. Byleth sipped at the wine, resisting the urge to down the whole thing, although every action she took was complicated by the fact that her left wrist was still bound to Edelgard’s right. The ceremony was over now anyway, so there was no need to suppress her nerves. 

Something brushed against her side, and she felt Edelgard’s free arm snake around her waist.

“I hope Ferdinand wasn’t offended by me laughing,” Byleth said. “Keeping a straight face is hard when you’re not used to any of this wedding business. And this-” She raised her left hand, using her right to gesture to the thread. “Do we have to keep it on all day?”

“Forever, my te- my _wife_.” Edelgard paused, as if savouring the shape of the word on her lips. “Every second of every day. Even when you go to the bathroom. The red thread of love can never be broken.”

It took Byleth a moment to realise that she was joking. 

“I hope you didn’t mind the vows,” continued Edelgard. “They’ve always been the traditional vows used at weddings in the Empire. With the religious references removed, of course.”

“They were very sweet.” Byleth leaned across and kissed her wife on the cheek. “If my father were here, he’d probably be in tears by now.”

The mention of Jeralt caused Edelgard to tense slightly. “I wish he could be here, my love. I really do.”

Byleth looked downwards at Edelgard’s veil, the image of the ten flowers stark against the sheer fabric. “And I wish they could too.”

Edelgard was about to respond when something hit her in the back, forcing her to stumble forwards.

“Congratulations, Edelgard and Professor!” Caspar had already finished his first glass of wine, the dark dregs clinging to the bottom. “You’re officially _married_ now, huh? How does it feel?”

“I imagine it feels very similar to how things were before,” said Linhardt, before turning to face the married couple. “And please accept my apologies on behalf of this reprobate. He’s been extremely excitable all day. Many congratulations to you both.”

Byleth thanked them both, before confessing that the sensation of ‘being married’ hadn’t quite sunk in yet. 

“We’ll hold a proper celebration in Enbarr soon,” said Edelgard. “We wanted a private ceremony, but that’s no reason why we can’t have some festivities afterwards. I’m sure everything will feel more real then-”

“What are you talking about?” interjected Ferdinand. “This is a proper celebration, is it not? We have good food, good company, excellent wines-”

Byleth pointedly avoided eye contact with him, not wanting to admit that his wines were less than excellent. Something else he’d said had captured her attention. “We have food?” she asked.

“Oh yes, there’ll be food,” said Bernie excitedly. “We got the servants to prepare it this time. Asking you to help with the cooking on your wedding day seemed a little unfair.”

Sure enough, an hour later they were seated at a table in the garden for a mini feast of meats and vegetables and cheeses; after using a knife and fork with one hand proved impossible, Edelgard finally relented and allowed the red thread to be cut. There was also a cake that Ferdinand had allegedly baked himself - Byleth didn’t want to ask whether and how it had been transported all the way from Almyra - with white icing and decorative red flowers, and at the top-

“You made an eagle, Ferdinand!” exclaimed Edelgard. “An icing eagle!” The bird sat proud on the top layer of cake, its sugary wings stretching outwards in pride, until Caspar grabbed a knife and chopped one of them off. 

The cake was delicious, and Byleth nibbled at her slice as she leaned back in her wife’s arms, watching as the sun made its descent beneath the clouds. She longed to stay there, looking out as the sky turned shades of pink and amber and long shadows crept across the garden, but she was interrupted by Edelgard poking her in the arm.

“Time to get up, my love. It’s time for our first dance.”

Byleth stared back at her, visibly nonplussed. “Our what now?”

“It’s traditional that when the sun sets, the married couple share a dance,” replied Edelgard, forcing herself to stand, wobbling slightly from the effects of the wine. “Of course, if you don’t want to-”

“I do want to,” insisted Byleth, ignoring the sense of dread curdling in her mind. Admitting her cowardice to Edelgard seemed wrong, but there was an undeniable truth that she couldn’t escape from. “I just- I’ve hardly ever danced in my life. Mostly because I’m really, _really_ terrible at it.”

Edelgard laughed. “You can’t be _that_ bad, my teacher. Anyway, I’m not exactly a professional myself.”

“Really? You looked like you know what you knew what you were doing back then.” Edelgard appeared confused, so she pressed on. “At the ball, I mean. Back at the Academy.”

“You still remember that?” Edelgard smiled fondly, giving Byleth’s arm a gentle squeeze. “I don’t think I’ve danced since then. Not even at my coronation. Although that was probably because there was no one who I particularly wanted to dance with. Thankfully I now have a wonderful wife who I can dance with whenever I want.” She reached out and pulled Byleth towards her, their bodies locked in each other’s embrace, their lips almost touching.

Byleth pressed a fingertip to her wife’s lips. “Fine. If you insist, my Emperor. But don’t we need music in order to dance?”

“Oh don’t worry. I’ve got that covered.”

Byleth had almost forgotten that they had a former opera star and decent amateur harpist in their midst. Linhardt played the harp softly while Dorothea sang a gentle ballad, the lyrics telling the story of a couple who’d been separated by turbulent seas for five years, only to meet again on an island in the middle of the ocean, where they danced in the glow of the moonlight. Dancing felt awkward at first, but with her body pressed closely to Edelgard’s, Byleth found herself falling into the rhythm of the song as they glided across the floor.

“You’re really not bad at this, you know,” Edelgard whispered in her ear. “Especially given that I sprung this on you.” 

She reached out and beckoned for the others to join them. Ferdinand practically sprinted onto the dancefloor, pulling a visibly reluctant Hubert with him, while Bernie and Lysithea started with a graceful waltz. Petra and Caspar had taken to dancing with each other while their partners provided the music, and in spite of the slow song they launched into some kind of energetic jig involving lots of twirling, which almost resulted in Caspar knocking the remains of the cake over. 

The dancing finished eventually, and as darkness settled over the garden, the others retreated inside the house, the sound of laughter and shouting escaping the open windows. Byleth remained outside at first, watching the horsebow moon rise above the horizon. 

She heard shuffling from amongst the flowerbeds: someone else was outside. Mercenary instincts - those damn instincts that she _still_ couldn’t shake off - told her to reach for a weapon again, in case someone nefarious had decided to gatecrash their celebrations. But her muscles relaxed when she saw the pale, slight figure emerge from behind a tree. It was only Lysithea.

“Aren’t you going inside with the others?” asked Byleth.

“I could say the same for you,” said Lysithea. “Shouldn’t you be inside? With your _wife_?”

“I was just admiring the moonrise,” replied Byleth. “Edelgard will be fine without me for a few minutes. Anyway, I didn’t think you’d want to be outside in the garden at this hour. There could be, you know-” She lowered her voice to a whisper “_-ghosts._”

Lysithea froze, her expression filled with fleeting dread before it transformed into a scowl. “I’m not a child any more, Byleth. I stopped being scared of ghosts a long time ago.”

Byleth shrugged, although it hadn’t escaped her attention that Lysithea was the only one of her former students, other than Edelgard, not to refer to her as ‘Professor’. She her attention back to the glowing face of the moon; it was almost full, what her father would have called a _waxing gibbous_. Lysithea was also looking up, watching spectral wisps of grey cloud creeping across the inky black sky, moved along by the breeze. Aside from her fear of ghosts and prodigious talent for magic, Byleth hadn’t learned much about her during her time at the Academy or the months she’d spent in their army. As a result, she wasn’t quite sure what to say.

“Your hair looks nice. Did you cut it yourself?”

Lysithea twisted a strand of short hair around her finger. “Oh. I didn’t cut it, it-” She paused, as if conscious that she’d said more than she’d intended. “I just- it ended up this way. One of my family’s servants cut it for me.”

“I see.” Byleth remained unconvinced. “And how have you been holding up since the war ended? We’ve hardly heard anything from you.”

It was a simple question, but Lysithea’s rose-coloured eyes narrowed into a glare. “Why do you ask? I’m holding up fine, just the same as everyone else.”

Byleth frowned, taken aback by the harshness of her tone. “I only asked. You’ve been an important ally - _friend_ \- of Edelgard’s, and mine as well. I wanted to make sure that you’re alright.”

Lysithea drew in breath, but they were interrupted by the sound of someone calling Byleth’s name from inside. 

“Byleth! _Professor!_ We’re going to the beach, come on!”

“I think I’m needed elsewhere,” said Byleth, trying to hide her disappointment at their conversation being cut short. “Will you come with us?”

“I think I’ll stay here. I’ve never really taken to beaches or swimming.” She turned away, her back to the house, her attention fixed on the heavens as a cloud passed over the moon.

Byleth pulled her jacket around her tightly as a chilling breeze swept through the air, but as she was about to step back inside, she heard the voice from behind her. 

“Wait, Byleth.” Lysithea was looking back at her. “Before you go, I wanted- I wanted to thank you for thinking of me. And for the kindness that you and Edelgard have shown me. Not just today, but in the past as well.”

“It’s nothing, Lysithea.” Byleth felt her expression soften. “Will you still be here in the morning?”

The white-haired girl smiled. “Of course. I didn’t travel all this way just to stay for one night and then leave.”

The rest of them walked down to the beach together. Someone - Caspar, probably - was brandishing a torch around with reckless abandon, almost setting fire to the hedge on at least two occasions, but aside from that, their path was cloaked in darkness. The moon was still concealed behind cloud, and the night air had quickly turned from mild to chilly. 

Eventually they reached the beach, the grass and dirt turning to sand beneath their feet. Byleth watched as a few of the others - Dorothea, Petra, Caspar - kicked their shoes off and raced each other towards the sea, disappearing into the distance until she heard the tell-tale splash of them leaping into the waves, followed by Dorothea and Caspar screaming about how _freezing_ it was (Petra, on the other hand, appeared unfazed). 

Byleth looked across at Edelgard. “Next you’re going to tell me that it’s traditional for the married couple to dive naked into the waves together.”

“Oh don’t worry, Professor,” said Ferdinand, his words slightly slurred. “No one’s getting naked. At least not _yet_. I’m sure you and Edelgard have plenty to catch up on though-”

“That’s enough,” said Hubert sharply. “Take your filth away from here and get in the sea with everyone else.”

Ferdinand didn’t need telling twice. He removed his suit jacket, throwing it into a heap on the ground, and ran down to the water’s edge, passing Linhardt and Bernie, who were sitting on the sand and watching the others splash about in the waves.

“Don’t be too hard on him, Hubert,” said Edelgard. “He’s just had too much to drink and forgotten how to act like a _true noble_.”

“A pitiful lightweight,” said Hubert disdainfully. “Now, your Majesty, while I hesitate to give you orders, _especially_ on your wedding day, I must insist that you join the others. I would hate for you miss out on any of the festivities. You too, your Highness.”

“You _really_ don’t need to call me that, Hubert,” said Byleth.

“Only if you insist. Although you are the new Empress of the Adrestian Empire, so it only seems appropriate that I address you in the proper way.” He gave her a fleeting smile. “Anyway, you should both hurry. I would hate for you to spend your evening trapped listening to me.”

Edelgard gave him a playful shove, muttering something about how there were very few others whos she’d rather spend time listening to, but she kicked her shoes off anyway and jogged down the beach, the hem of her robes and veil dragging across the sand. Byleth removed her shoes, preparing to follow her, but she hung back deliberately until Edelgard was safely out of earshot.

“Any reason why you’re so keen to be alone?” she asked.

“I’ve always been a solitary creature, your Highness,” replied Hubert. “If you must know, there are certain matters I need to return to the house to attend to. But nothing you need concern yourself with.”

“Oh come on, Hubert. You can’t say something like that and expect me not to _concern myself_ with it.” 

He remained tight lipped, only relenting when Byleth aimed what was meant to be a playful punch at his arm. “That hurt,” he said.

“Sorry. But if you refuse to tell me anything, I sometimes have to take drastic measures.”

Hubert sighed heavily. “I will tell you if you solemnly swear not to mention this to Her Majesty until tomorrow.” He paused, only continuing when he received a confirmatory nod from Byleth. “There have been reports of disturbances in a town around thirty miles inland from here. Nothing too troubling, but given that we’re in the area anyway, we’d be remiss not to at least inspect it.”

Byleth frowned, the mention of disturbances stirring a part of her brain that she’d hoped to lock away for one day. “Shouldn’t Edelgard know about this straight away?”

“I don’t want to spoil her evening. She spends every day of her life worrying about the Empire, so I think she deserves one where she gets to be a normal person.” Hubert sighed, resting his chin in his hand. “I could say the same for you, which is why I wouldn’t have told you either, had you not been so infuriatingly _persistent_.”

Byleth looked out at the dark expanse of sea, Edelgard clearly visible against the backdrop in her shining white robes. Thankfully, she hadn’t decided to go back into the sea, instead watching from the shore as Caspar scooped an extremely disgruntled Linhardt into his arms before dropping him in the shallows. In her mind, the scene changed, and it was daylight again, rays of sunlight illuminating the blue ocean and golden sand. Where the sand met the sea, a young girl with her brown hair in pigtails danced along the shore, girls of different ages and a black-haired boy chasing after her. 

“Tomorrow,” mumbled Byleth. “We’ll tell her tomorrow.” But she could agree that for one night, Edelgard deserved to be happy and free again.

\-------------------------

It was almost midnight when they returned to the house. Several hours of wine and celebrations had clearly taken its toll on the group, and everyone dispersed to their respective rooms, mumbling slurred goodnights on the way up. 

Edelgard and Byleth had been granted the master bedroom for their wedding night. A small but comfortable double bed stood against the wall, covered with layers of thick blankets, a candle bathing the room in soft light.

Byleth had forgotten just how difficult it was to remove herself from her robes, and it took her and Edelgard’s best efforts to strip her down to her underclothes. It was even more difficult for her wife, whose veil had been fixed in place by an elaborate pattern of hairpins which had to be pulled out with methodical precision. Getting her robes off was no simple task either, and eventually the pair of them collapsed in a half-dressed heap on the bed, filled with uncontrollable laughter.

“We’d better be quiet,” said Byleth, eventually forcing herself to stop. “The others are probably asleep. And I bet the walls in this place are _incredibly_ thin.”

“Quiet?” Edelgard smiled devilishly. “I have absolutely no intention of being quiet tonight, my love.”

Byleth felt her pulse quicken, her heart thumping relentlessly in her chest; it was impossible to tame it when Edelgard said things like _that_. She forced herself back into a seated position and helped her wife remove the last piece of her outfit, Edelgard kicking her legs free from the restrictive fabric. She was seated on the edge of her bed, naked except for her corset and panties, and she angled herself to that Byleth could reach round and undo the ties at the back.

Gently, Byleth lowered herself into Edelgard’s lap and kissed her; softly at first, but deeper when she felt Edelgard’s tongue nudge at the gap between her lips. Her hands were trembling slightly, but they still managed to remove Edelgard’s corset - Byleth wasn’t sure _why_, given that this was hardly the first time they’d undressed each other, but the gravitas of it being their wedding night had instilled her with a nervousness that was usually absent. She placed one hand on Edelgard’s back, the outline of a scar rough beneath her fingertips, the other cupping her right breast, her thumb teasing the edge of her nipple. Byleth shunted forward, their bodies pressed against each other so she was certain Edelgard could feel the rhythm of her pulse and the growing warmth between her legs. 

Without warning, Edelgard broke the kiss. “My teach- my lovely wife, I have a request for you.”

“Yes, my love?”

She was startled by the sensation of Edelgard grabbing her waist and flipping her down onto the bed, the old mattress buckling beneath her weight. Byleth had forgotten just how strong Edelgard was, a quality belied by her small size, although it was unsurprising that an Emperor who could wield a heavy metal axe was capable of pinning down her partner. Suddenly Edelgard was hovering over her, long strands of loose her caressing Byleth’s face.

“I want-” Edelgard paused, as if finding it difficult to articulate her desires. “I know that I usually like having you on top, but for tonight, I want to try it. To see what it feels like.” Her hand crept between her wife’s legs, settling on the fabric of her underwear, and Byleth felt her heart almost stop.

“My Emperor, there is nothing I would like more than to be pinned down and ravaged by you.”

Edelgard laughed, her cheeks turning a deeper shade of pink. “I wouldn’t take it that far. Anyway, there’s something else I want to do for you first. Lie back, my love.”

Byleth didn’t need to be told. She rested her head obediently against the pillow, looking up at the wooden rafters, where the flickering candle caused shadows to dance across the ceiling. The tips of Edelgard’s hair brushed against her chest, then her abdomen, and finally between her thighs as she moved downwards, peppering the insides of Byleth’s legs with small kisses. She stopped momentarily, and Byleth ignored the urge to press her legs together to keep her there.

“Don’t stop now,” she pleaded.

“Oh, my teacher,” said Edelgard, hooking a playful hand under the fabric of Byleth’s underwear. “I haven’t even _started_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love my dysfunctional Beagle children + Lysithea so much and I enjoyed writing a chapter where they all get to be together again (and be happy! Hooray!)
> 
> Thanks for reading. Comments and kudos are always appreciated! Sometimes I spend a lot of time writing and wonder what I'm doing this for, but hearing from people who like the story warms my soul <3
> 
> More random headcanons: after the CF ending, and now that she's no longer a vessel for Sothis, Byleth feels emotions a lot more easily and strongly now (something she's not entirely accustomed to). Oh, and Lin is a talented multi-instrumentalist despite putting barely any effort into practising, except for when he's randomly awake at 3am (don't ask).


End file.
